


Freedom

by SgtMac



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Enchanted Forest Idiots In Love, F/F, Falling In Love On A Pirate Ship, Marian as BFF, Princess Emma, Semi Wish You Were Here compliant, Swan Mills Family, WishVerse Swan Queen, pirate queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 61,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SgtMac/pseuds/SgtMac
Summary: Before Emma Swan made a fateful wish on a magic lamp to be someone and something else, a reality already existed where the Evil Queen had been defeated before her curse could be cast. In that incredibly twisted and broken parallel universe, a fallen Queen became the heroic Captain of the Jolly Roger and a meek and underestimated pregnant Princess became a courageous fighter. There, these two complicated women inexplicably found each other, and overcame impossible odds to create a home and a family on the open seas together. This is that story.





	1. One.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Freedom [art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784209) by [Corasparasol (LastVerse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastVerse/pseuds/Corasparasol). 



> With enormous gratitude to my amazing beta (mmd7z4 on Tumblr) - this piece wouldn't be possible without you or your patient guidance. And thanks to the SQSN mods who kept encouraging me forward when I wanted to give up.
> 
> Roughly compliant to the S6 ep Wish You Were Here and the EQ/Hook/Smee parts of 7x07, but no one ever went back to the WishVerse so that means no return of the EQ and Dark Robin to that realm and no S7 part of the story where our characters returned there. This also ignores any part where Wish Hook ever returned to the Jolly Roger.
> 
> For those who like to be warned about these kinds of things, WishVerse Hook is in this for the first few paragraphs of chapter 1, and WishVerse Baelfire is in it for much of the first chapter, and is spoken about a few other times throughout the story. Otherwise, it's all the ladies. That said, beware of the terrible WishVerse version of Snow.
> 
> Also, be aware that I play it fast and loose with things like sailing and medicine. I did some general research as I went along, but ultimately the fine details of those things just aren't what matters most.
> 
> The mature label on this is due to a couple of non-graphic sex scenes, violence, situations involving attempts at forced marriage, mental rape, psychological child abuse, and a very brief non-graphic threat of physical rape.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know your thoughts!

“Apologies, Your Majesty, but I have something more important than this mission or my revenge to attend to,” Killian Jones says softly, no sign of the cocksure Captain Hook showing. Whatever he had gone through on his time away, it had quite clearly altered him.

Unfortunately, in a way which throws a major wrench into her desperate escape plan.

“What?” Regina calls after him, eyes blown wide with desperation. “What is more important than revenge?” But he doesn’t answer her, doesn’t even look back at her or his former crew.

He just leaves, and she’s left standing there with his bewildered pirates, looking utterly lost.

Which is a terrible way to start a story, she thinks wryly, and almost laughs aloud, because how much more absurd can hers get before she just slams the door shut and says to hell with this?

Oh, but she knows better; giving up means surrendering to Snow and Charming, and this time, she knows that they won’t stay her execution. This time, she will surely feel the pierce of the arrows into her heart. Perhaps that’s deserved, and even welcomed, but she won’t allow them that satisfaction. They’ve won already, she won’t let them display her corpse as a macabre trophy as well.

“I know the plan had been just to take you to safety in another realm, but you’re welcome to stay on and sail with us, Your Majesty,” Smee offers, breaking through the darkening clouds of her thoughts. Normally, the arrogant bravado of such a statement would cost him dearly, but today, the Queen is tired. Today, she just wants to get far away from this terrible land and Snow and Charming.

She wants to be away from their stupid “love conquers all” story, away from their stupid impending perfect True Love child, and away from their stupid everything else.

Just… _away_.

Because her elemental magic has been stolen from her, and it’s all just hopeless now, and she’s sick of feeling empty and lost. She’s sick of losing everything, including her soul.

Still, she has her pride. So she shakes her head. “I take orders from no one, Mr. Smee.”

He looks like he’s about to protest, but then he gazes around at the rest of the crew, and while they are fond of him, none of them believe him capable of being their leader. Sighing, Smee takes his knit cap off, bows slightly and says, “Of course not. _Captain_.”

She pauses, wondering if she’s actually about to trade her crown for sails. She looks around at the expectant faces watching her, then turns and stares out at the blue sea, the water slowly rippling. Finally, smiling widely, she replies, “Show me _our_ ship.”

Recognizing her words for the unexpected olive branch which they are, Smee grins and sweeps his arm out as if to guide her – on the greatest of voyages, his twinkling eyes suggest. On an adventure she'll never regret.

She lets out a soft chuckle, as if to say, “Perhaps.”

 

* * *

 

Her wardrobe is forced to alter once she moves from carriages to pirate ships; she goes from diamond-adorned dresses and intimidating leather-trimmed entirely-too-tight riding clothing to more functional (though often still leather) pants, looser-fitting blouses and and leather jerkins trimmed in deep hues. Her duster meant to shield her from the mercurial elements resembles Hook’s, but it also has more flair to it, better suited to her curves, and her need to still put on something of an audacious show.

Reluctantly, she also learns to sleep in less refined wool or cotton, whatever offers her some relief from the stifling summer heat or the cold of the prevailing winds which seep through the boards of the _Jolly Roger_ at night. The first evenings on the ship are difficult, and she second-guesses herself repeatedly. What insanity had made her think that she could captain a pirate ship full of degenerate half-witted thieves? Why is she even bothering to continue to fight? Why not just end it and find some peace… _somewhere?_

Because there probably isn’t such a thing for her, she thinks grimly. Which brings her back to this. To somehow finding purpose amongst these men and women who live their lives so simply. They wake up, work hard, laugh harder, fight where necessary, eat when needed, sleep as required, and then the next day, they do it all over again. And they seem happy about it.

Happier than she’s ever been in her life, anyway, and so she figures…why not give it a try?

Why not see where this adventure leads her to?

So her head still held high, but her ego half-buried, she throws herself into it with every bit of heart she has left.

Smee teaches her how to sail and how to fight like a pirate (she already knew how to fence like a noble and kill like a Queen, but this is different, and so the first time she punches a man twice her size, she lets out a high-pitched screech of excitement impressive enough to cause half the crew to mock her about it for weeks; the fact that she doesn’t kill any of them for doing so is a sign of how she’s changing, she realizes, and wonders how she feels about that). He teaches her how to use a cutlass and how to fire a flintlock pistol, and she finds that he’s a surprisingly good teacher, a patient one. She realizes that offering him even the slightest bit of affection and gratitude pays off in deep loyalty and reverence to her.

Her other teacher is Marian. Long ago, she’d run with a band of thieves known as the Merry Men, traveling with them until several had been captured by Nottingham and executed. Somehow or another, she’d ended up with Hook after that, becoming the Second Mate after the previous one had managed to kill himself by falling off the side of the ship while drunk. In any case, after an intense stare down between the two women (one that had left Regina chuckling, impressed with the steel Marian has), Marian has been the one who has shown her the more human side of being on a ship day-in and day-out. Absent servants and magic, there’s a lot to learn and much of it is messy and uncertain, but Marian is as patient with her as Smee.

It would seem that Hook, wherever he is, whatever better purpose he had followed after, had assembled a capable lot of sailors (“no, they’re _pirates,"_  Marian corrects her, rolling her eyes in the same way that a mother might be speaking about her wayward “kids”). They’re her crew now, and Regina realizes quickly that she can’t lead them as the Queen had once led her men. These ones are rougher, less disciplined, but infinitely more willing to follow if they trust her.

“They have to believe in you,” Smee tells her about two weeks into the journey, after she’s finally starting to feel like she’s settling in. He and Marian stand on opposite sides of her next to the railing, buffering her from the elements as a light wind brushes rain against them. With a sheepish smile, Smee offers her his flask of rum. Regina scowls darkly at it, waving it off.

Marian takes it from him and then offers her it again. “If the crew trusts you, they will follow you anywhere. Sure, there will be ones you to have to discipline to make a point –“

“I know how to discipline. Both my enemies and my own subjects,” she reminds Marian, thinking about how many executions she had overseen. For a long while, such iron-fisted ways had been effective in keeping the peasants quiet and her soldiers loyal, but as it had turned out, neither condition had been genuine. Once the tides of war had started to turn against her, many of her Black Knights had flipped sides, denouncing her, and insisting that she’d taken their hearts and forced them. Lies, for the most part – certainly, there had been a few who could make that claim, such as the Huntsman, but for the most part, those who had worn her dark colors had come to her because of a similar lust for violence and revenge.

That should have been her first sign, she muses, that they were never going to stay loyal to her.

These pirates, though – mostly men, and a few women tough enough to hold their own – came to Hook because they needed a place to fit in and settle, away from the ways of polite society. All of them are just a little bit different, a little bit strange, yet somehow this motley crew has created their own warped family unit. And now, inexplicably, she’s the reluctant head of it.

“I remember,” Marian states, unimpressed, but disturbingly kind. “But this is…different.”

Grudgingly, Regina takes the flask from her, and drinks from it. “Does it have to be rum?”

“Rum is the easiest to come by out here,” Smee supplies. “But if Her Majesty prefers, the next time we go ashore, we can find…whiskey.”

“Her Majesty would definitely prefer it, but I suppose this will do for now.” She follows his gaze out towards the water. A storm is coming, Smee had told her a few hours ago, and she’s come to realize that part of her job is to understand what that means for her and for her crew. Do they go forward in their journey or find another way around Mother Nature? For now, the storm is far enough off that there’s no reason to alter course, but it’s a decision will she will have to make sooner than later.

And isn't that just aggressively on the nose?

“I’ll teach you to read the wind and the water,” Smee promises, noticing her uncertainty.

“Why?” she asks, in a moment of brutal honesty, and mostly because this is a question she’s been wondering since day one. “Why help me succeed when you could lead?”

“Because I want _all_ of us to succeed. And I’m not a leader. I’m okay with that.” He peers back at her, his red cheeks brightening as he smiles. “As long as you take your responsibility seriously.”

Too tired to be annoyed by his gentle challenge of her intentions, she just sighs. After a few seconds, and a swallow of rum, she asks, “Do you know if Snow White finally had her brat?”

“She did. A few months ago. Word from the shore is that it was a perfectly healthy little girl,” Marian confirms. “She’s already quite the beloved little princess. Emma.”

“I’m sure she is. _Emma_ ,” she repeats, rolling the name over her tongue. She tries not to think about the celebrations, which had been thrown across the kingdom, all the peasants gossiping wildly and pretending like they give a damn about the little girl’s birth just because they believe that the rule of Snow and David will be more beneficial for them. It might even turn out to be, she muses, but that won’t alter the reality that they always end up hating their leadership.

No matter how benevolent and kind and beloved the King or Queen might be (not that she had ever been any of those things, but still she understands history and nature), eventually, the subjects will always want more than their leaders can provide. The truth is, people always turn on those they claim to love. In the end, they always destroy the ones they love the most.

Just as she had destroyed her own father.

And gotten nothing but another gaping hole in her heart for it.

“How much is the bounty on me this week?” Regina asks, shifting the subject away from the new princess. She hadn’t gone ashore with the crew at the last port – in this realm, it’s still far too dangerous as almost everyone would be happy to turn her in for the copious amounts of gold Snow and David are offering for her capture. The fact that this crew has already closed ranks protectively around her makes her feel emotions that she doesn’t entirely understand.

But they have, and so she decides that she will protect them as much as they have her.

Even if she lacks the magic to do it as forcefully as she once had. Flexing her fingers, she wonders if she will ever feel the magic within her again; the loss of it still devastating to her (it’s so much more than the loss of a weapon, it feels more like a losing a limb…)

“Triple the amount of last time,” Marian notes wryly.

“And yet no one jumped at the offer,” Regina states, frowning.

“No one did,” Smee confirms, visibly proud of this.

Regina nods. “How long until we’ve reached the portal to the next realm?”

“Four days,” Smee says softly, knowing they’re about to be dismissed. Weeks on the sea with her, and sometimes he forgets who she was, and sometimes he remembers all too well.

And yet, she’s been kind to them – brusque and occasionally caustically teasing, but Hook had been that way, too. He sees something familiar in the Queen’s eyes – something haunted and dark. But he also sees loneliness and need, a desire to have something. Be part of something. This crew, he thinks, and smiles at her broadly. “Next on to Neverland.”

“Neverland,” she echoes. Then, frowning as she remembers, “Peter Pan?”

“Aye. We have business with him. Or at least Captain Hook did. Now you do.”

“We’ll see." She waves her hand to dismiss him and Marian.

He bows slightly (Marian doesn’t), and together they walk away, leaving her to her thoughts.

To rum and blue water, and a world rapidly disappearing behind her. Just weeks ago, her revenge had been at hand. And then uncertainty had starting crawling through her mind. Still, everything had been ready, and so she moved forward, even sacrificing her father to start the wheel turning, but then the hesitancy had grown, and Snow and Charming had overtaken her.

Stealing her magic from her, shattering her spirit, and leaving her running for her life.

Ah her spirit, but not her pride...never that.

Maybe there’s a way to get her magic back or to somehow make it grow within her once again, she wonders, feeling a dark spark of hope. Maybe Peter Pan knows of such a way.

 _Maybe_.

 

* * *

 

Neverland is quite the adventure, just not the one she’d been expecting.

Peter Pan is a demonic little bastard, and so despite Hook's prior trafficking agreement with him, she feels obligated to destroy him.

Not with magic, though. Arrogant through and through, Pan had laughingly told her that to get her magic back, she'd have to kill Snow since the only way to steal magic from a natural born user is to bind it to another soul, in this case, likely Snow’s own. Smirking, he had taunted Regina with the knowledge that she would never be able to succeed because she lacked the strength to destroy Snow White and her “perfect little family” once and for all. After all, he had asked, if she was capable of doing it, why hadn’t she done it already?

So no, they hadn’t fought him with magic but rather with her wits and the weapons of her crew. 

Including her own; while she’s still not quite comfortable with this style of swordplay yet, she’s a quick learner, so she goes toe-to-toe with Rufio until she gets bored of it, and hits him in the face with the hilt of her cutlass. He’s not expecting that, and so when he falls back in surprise, she pulls the flintlock pistol from her belt and fires directly into his chest.

Thankfully, when you travel with pirates, no one tells you that maybe you’re being overly.

The first round ends in a draw, and so reluctantly, Regina agrees to allow a fall-back to the waters around Neverland, making the sea their home turf as they continue their fight with Pan. Before they go, though, they do manage to steal away several of his Lost Boys, including one known as Baelfire. Of course, Regina knows whose son he is almost immediately – thanks to his bookworm lover, she knows much about her former teacher and his twisted terrible life – and thinks this is its own kind of revenge.

He had destroyed her, warped her soul and then betrayed her, and so she resolves to return the favor. Poetic justice, she thinks, and welcomes the boy to her crew with a malevolent smile.

Bae's response, and gods if this won’t become the story of her life, is to grin cheekily back at her.

 

* * *

 

Time passes in the strangest of ways for her and her crew.

For Regina, time passes in baby steps (the many, _many_ days and nights spent in Neverland) and giant leaps (the occasional but always brief journeys back through other realms), and weeks which become years without her realizing it. Two decades of life lived by everyone else passes by for her in the space of one physical year. Two decades where she doesn’t age, doesn’t alter more than her hair style (far shorter than it had been before, and pulled back into braids more often, both changes owing to the habit sea-water has of curling it) and the way she does her eye makeup (darker more dramatic charcoal lined eyes; functional for shielding from the sun). In short, she's moved from the  risqué high art of an Evil Queen to the more pragmatic but dashing style of a Pirate Queen.

For their part, her crew is equal parts feared and revered across the seas, and she thinks it ironic that they’ve become somewhat of a Robin Hood like legend (even more ironic considering who Marian almost married long ago). True, her reasons for robbing from royalty are due to spite and pettiness towards the righteous kings and queens who so resemble Snow and Charming but the end result is the same, and after her crew eats and drinks, the remaining looted funds are disbursed to the needy and forgotten. As it turns out, these seemingly benevolent monarchs don’t actually care about the little people as much as the stories always insist that they do. Quite satisfied to be up in their brilliant castles, they view the docility of their subjects as a job well done.

But as seems to be the case in these stories (and she's heard dark ones about Snow, shadowy whispers across the shared seas), docility is hiding fear and oppression - a people pressed into smiling silence by the iron-fisted ways of regimes proclaiming to be righteous.

How ironic it is that Good often turns out to be worse than Evil when fear is involved, Regina muses, and then forces herself not to think about it - no benefit will come from allowing her mind to dwell on the past...or Snow.

Instead, she focuses on her people, and leading them the best she can. Which, unfortunately, means that she also begins to experience death in a different way than she did as the Evil Queen. Yes, often it is still at her own hand due to the many fights she and her pirates tend to get into, but sometimes, she finds herself saying goodbye to a member of her crew who doesn’t survive one adventure or another. She finds that these losses…actually bother her deeply.

She finds that as time goes on, and she starts seeing herself more as Captain than Queen, she feels deep grief for the lost crewmen as she watches their bodies disappear into the ocean.

It makes her tougher, though. Stronger and smarter.

Well, at least that’s what she tells herself one night as she watches her men and women dancing around the deck of the _Jolly Roger_ , music playing and alcohol flowing as they – _her_ people, _her_  crew – laugh and enjoy their lives out here on the blue, blue water.

Full of life and joy and mirth, Marian and Bae – Bae, who has never feared her no matter her original intent -step towards her at the same time, their intent clear. “Captain,” Bae prompts, impish as ever, but in a way she finds almost endearing.

Rolling her eyes, but not even bothering to hide a smile, she obligingly takes Bae’s hand, and allows him to spin her towards Marian who takes her hand, dances a handful of steps with her, and then spins her back to Bae to be dipped. Satisfied, and knowing that Regina has given them all that she will, they grin at her and move off, back to dancing with the rest of the crew.

She watches, sipping her (obtained just for her) whiskey, thinking that she finally understands the term “a pirate’s life.”

 

* * *

 

It’s not at all by choice when Regina finally returns – almost twenty years to the day that she’d fled - with her crew to the Enchanted Forest. Unavoidably drawn back to a realm she’d hoped to never see again, they’re here only because Bae had left them for a time to go off and explore. She thinks she really has changed, because a time ago, she never would have let the Dark One’s son out of her sight for fear of losing her bargaining chip and now she’s on her way to bail him out of _something_.

Something that has him sending an urgent “message in a bottle” request for pick-up, insisting he needs assistance. This isn’t a place that she wishes to be, but Regina finds that there is little risk she won’t undertake for this crew who has become something like family.

Turns out that her grand plan to get revenge on Rumple by corrupting Bae hadn’t exactly worked out the way she assumed that it would. On the other hand, perhaps having formed something of a brotherly bond with him - the very thing that Rumple has been denied – is its own kind of revenge.

“Captain,” Smee says, just to her side, pointing outwards. “Land, ahoy.”

She chuckles, casting him a sidelong bemused glance. “So, what do we know?”

“Well, there’s a girl,” Smee says, all but giggling as he relays the gossip.

Regina looks at him, her eyebrow lifting mischievously. “Not lately,” she replies cheekily. She means for herself, of course, and yes, there have been a handful of lovers over the last twenty years, both male and female, and isn’t it interesting that out here on the open seas, taking either one of the sexes (or both at once as has happened on occasion) isn’t terribly scandalous?

It’s fascinating how amongst these weathered cynical pirates, many of her life choices are hers to make without fear of condemnation. Here, on the sea, she’s allowed to be less refined. Here, she’s allowed to breathe in a way she’d never been permitted to before.

She finds herself wondering what could have been possibly been enough to make Hook walk away from this kind of freedom? Money? No, certainly not. Revenge? Seems he’d surrendered that. So probably the love of something or someone so great that he’d been willing to sacrifice. It’s hard not to feel both jealousy and pity at the thought of such a thing.

“I meant Baelfire, Majesty,” he corrects as he hands over the scroll to her. Unfurling it, she muses that Smee is the only one still aboard this ship who continues to call her that.

But he calls her by all three names – Captain, variations of Majesty and occasionally Regina.

Seldom Regina, though – usually it’s just Marian and Bae who do that, the two of them sharing a dangerous presumptuousness.

“Is there?” Regina asks, an eyebrow lifted in bemusement as she reads Bae’s request.

“It’s always a girl with him,” Marian notes as she approaches, smirking knowingly.

“Indeed. He says he plans to marry this girl and bring her back. To sail with us.” Regina chuckles, bemused. "Mm. We’ll see about that.”

Because few men or women are good enough for her crew, and Bae in particular gives his heart freely and openly, and while she envies such ability, she worries about him, because, in her experience, someone always takes advantage of those with an open heart.

But that’s for later – for now, her mind is troubled elsewhere.

By the return to this realm, and the dark memories that come with such a return.

Still, she is the captain of the _Jolly Roger_ , and her crew is waiting on her.

“Who lost the coin flip to stay with the ship?” she asks.

“I did,” Marian grumbles. “It’s fine, I won the last three times.”

“That you did,” Smee confirms, clearly still grouchy about it.

“Fair enough. Prepare us to come ashore, Mr. Smee,” Regina states, her head up high.

Unwilling to return to this land without her pride as her flag.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he grins, and then bustles off to do exactly that.

Her finely tuned crew.

Still, Regina thinks as she stares at the town as it approaches, there remains a hole in her heart, a wound awaiting healing.

Out here, she has loyalty and respect…concepts that she’s only ever experienced here with her crew, concepts more meaningful to her than she imagined possible. She has freedom and the ability to grow perhaps for the first time in her life. She has so much now.

But still…still, there something missing.  

What that is, she doesn't entirely know, but there's something...

Such thoughts will have to wait, she determines as she readies to go ashore.

Because first, there's a girl to deal with.

 

* * *

 

The girl's name is Emma Swan.

Dressed in the muted colors and simple dress of a commoner, she’s anything but one. Rather, she’s blonde, and pretty, and yes, as delicate as a swan, and Regina recognizes her at once.

Impossible not to with how much she looks like both of her obnoxious parents.

“You want to marry the crown princess? Has all your time in Neverland with the other little boys finally caught up with you and addled your soft brain, and now you’ve gone completely insane?” Regina demands, clutching Bae’s forearm, as her mind races with thoughts. This all seems so oddly fortuitous, but what in her life ever truly is?

What shiny gifts offered freely and easily have ever turned out to be anything but poison?

“I love her,” Bae shrugs, his grin dopey. She wonders how a boy who had lived in Neverland for as long as he had, who was the betrayed son of the Dark One, and who served upon the _Jolly Roger_ could still find such starry-eyed idealism, but one way or another, he has.

“Yes, yes, _love_. Have you asked her for her hand in marriage yet? Has she accepted?”

“Not yet.”

And what, dear boy, is your plan? We’ll just kidnap your little girlfriend away?” Regina asks, her exasperation clear as she glances over at the girl who is staring down at her mug.

Looking like she has no real idea what to do with it.

Yes, Regina thinks darkly, kidnapping the dumb girl might be exactly the plan here.

And then maybe she’ll send the pretty, pretty princess back in pieces to Snow and David.

It probably wouldn’t go over particularly well to tell Bae she’s having such thoughts, though.

“Well, not exactly; she ran away about seven months ago so we’d just be…bringing her along,” he shrugs. “Look, I don’t know, Regina. I just know that she wants to see what’s outside the castle walls. She ran away from there because she’s sick of being trapped in their plans for her. She wants more than…to live someone else’s dream. She wants to…live her own, you know?”

“Don’t we all? You must know the risks of this… _ridiculous_ idea of yours? Those two morons are probably looking for their precious little angel in every nook and cranny.”

He nods sagely. “I also know what she is to you, Regina. So why the argument?”

Their eyes meet, his mirth sliding away, and his age and experience shining through; he might come off as a boy, but he is, in fact,  much older than she is. He has been through a lot thanks to his father and Peter Pan and he knows how the many games are played.

She frowns deeply, her confusion clear. “If you know my intentions, then why are you –“

“She’s pregnant, Regina,” Bae states, his smile returning as he quickly looks over at Emma.

Regina’s eyes close. “Of course she is. Because it wasn’t bad enough that you defiled their precious princess, you had to also make sure that you knocked the dumb brat up.” She scowls darkly at him. “You really think I want to start a new war with Snow and Charming?”

“Well, I mean it’s not like I’m going to let you kill her,” he says pointedly. “But I would think that you’d enjoy knowing you took something from them that hurts as much as what they took from you. Knowing that I’d be happy as well, that’s just a bonus, right?”

“You overestimate my affection for you,” she states, her hand loosening on his forearm.

“No, I don’t,” he says quietly. “If anything, I probably underestimate it.”

She groans, then flicks her hand, attempting to show disinterest. “Introduce me to her.”

“She already knows who you are,” he cautions. “Her parents have told her…the stories.”

“Well, if she’s going to sail with us, those stories will have to be something she gets over quickly,” Regina answers, doing her best to pretend like that reminder doesn’t hurt.

But well, she is still the Evil Queen, and she supposes that she always will be.

“For what it’s worth, she’s not a dumb brat; give her time, Emma might surprise you.”

“Very little surprises me, Bae.”

“I did.” He grins. “Your intentions for me weren’t all that different from your intentions for her. I know that when you brought me on, you planned to use me as a weapon against _my_ father.”

Regina just glares at him in response.

Earning another grin from Bae, and then he’s leading her over towards the corner, over towards where Emma is sitting, a dark blue wool cloak over her shoulders and hair to hide her from anyone who might look, and thus recognize the princess who had run away months earlier.

“Emma Swan,” Bae says as they approach. He pushes Emma’s cloak open, and settles his hand on an unmistakable bump there (Regina guesses she’s around four to five months along based on it), smiling brightly as he does it. He then points to Regina. “My Captain.”

Emma looks up, all softness and widened doe eyes, “The Evil Queen,” she murmurs, her voice shaky.

“Nah. I just call her Regina,” Bae states, grinning ear-to-ear.

“But you may call me ‘Your Majesty’,” Regina replies, her lip curling into an reactive sneer.

Emma blinks slowly, and Regina finds herself disappointed that this is the offspring of Snow and David; a simple girl who seems incapable of connecting three words together.

“Regina,” Bae scolds, and she wonders why she allows him to take such license. He sits down next to Emma, folding her hand into his, and then patting it. “Everything is okay,” he says.

Regina turns away, unable to hide her disgust. “We leave at nightfall. If she is coming with us, I would give her a crash course on what will be expected once we’re at sea. And get her something to drink so hopefully she doesn’t turn to mush once we set sail.”

“I will,” he promises. “The worst of her morning sickness has passed; she’ll be all right.”

“We’ll see,” Regina replies, and then she’s dramatically stomping away.

Wondering if yet another victory is about to be snatched away from her.

Knowing deep down that despite her loathing for Snow and Charming, as long as Bae loves the silly girl, there’s no way that she’s going to be able to harm her. Not even for vengeance.

Gods, how much she has changed?

For the better?

There are few men or women bold enough to say.

 

* * *

 

Night turns into morning, and she drinks with her crew, hiding her face as much as she can. Twenty years has passed, and she thinks maybe the memory of her has as well. Maybe people in this realm have finally forgotten her and –

Not so, and sometime just after three in the morning, someone says, “You’re the Evil Queen!”

Oh, how she hates being called that.

Regina curses, and looks over at Smee, who shrugs, and then her men are drawing their swords.

How ironic that the one they recognize is her and not their missing princess.

Bae rises up, draws his blade, turns to Emma, and says, “Stay back.”

She nods, head ducked, and Regina sneers again, even as she pulls her own sword.

She misses her magic terribly, still, but ever since Neverland, she’s come to really enjoy the art of swordplay. A wonderful physicality and intellect interconnecting that exhilarates her.

The pistol at her hip, she enjoys far less, but it has its uses when there’s no other option.

Thankfully, this is a battle she can fight with her blade.

The soldiers come quickly, yelling at her, demanding her surrender. She laughs at them, and stabs one right in the shoulder, grinning when he falls, the familiar bloodlust igniting rapidly.

It’s delicious, really.

“Regina,” Bae calls out. “Mind the Princess!”

“What?” she snaps, but then there’s a quivering girl behind her, and Bae is rushing forward; he’s always been more of an attack-based fighter, never one to enjoy defensive strategy.

She thinks to warn him – there’s too many soldiers for such a brutal attack strategy - but then Emma is curling close enough to her that she can actually feel the softness of the girl’s breasts and the roundness of her pregnant belly against her back. A moment later, one of Emma’s hands is settling on her hip as she all but plasters herself to Regina. Startled, Regina stops looks back at Emma, her dark eyes blown wide with surprise, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmurs, starting to retreat, her arms moving to wrap around herself.

Regina huffs out her irritation just as another solider attacks, her hand reaching back to grab Emma's. “Stay,” she orders, moving further in front of the silly girl. She strikes out at the soldier coming at her, her sword entering his belly fluidly. He gasps at the same time Emma does, and then as he falls, Regina spins, pulling Emma practically into her arms.

Her hand lifts, and with the pad of her thumb, she almost tenderly wipes a drop of blood away from Emma’s cheek. And then she licks it off her thumb, grinning savagely at the look of unrestrained shock on the young princess's face. Before Emma can adapt and think of something to say in response to her almost lewd provocation, Regina snaps out, “You’re going to have to learn how to fight if you’re going to sail with us; I won’t let you endanger my crew with your…weakness."

“I’m not weak,” Emma stammers, seeming like she doesn’t believe her own word for even a moment.

Regina finds herself wondering about how after Emma's been away from the castle. Before running away this time, and finding her way to Bae, what had she gotten up to? Picking berries in the forest?

Yes, definitely. While singing, probably, Regina muses, and finds herself laughing at the image this conjures.

“What’s funny?” Emma asks.

“Everything, Princess,” Regina answers, and then she spins Emma again, and they move back towards the door, looking for their escape from this place – for their way back to water.

“Captain?” Smee calls out, recognizing Regina’s silent request for assistance.

“A colorful exit, perhaps, Mr. Smee,” she requests.

He nods, and then he throws something, and the air fills with colored smoke; it’s noxious and immediately, the soldiers are gasping and coughing. Her crew is used to it, though, having learned how to breath – or not breathe – through it, and so they use it to cover their escape. Laughing as they do.

Her hand remains grasped around Emma’s hand, pulling the wretched girl along.

 

Towards a future neither one of them are prepared for.

 

* * *

 

She never should have returned to this realm.

For any reason.

The only things existing in this realm where Snow and Charming rule is misery and loss, a harsh reality that she is brutally reminded of about two minutes after they return to the _Jolly Roger_.

Her crew is understandably ecstatic about beating off the Royal Guardsmen (that title sounds more benevolent than Black Knights, she imagines, and grumbles over just how good Snow has always been at PR). She doesn’t have the heart to tell them that part of the reason they’d been effortlessly successful is because these soldiers aren’t used to actual battle anymore (publicly accepted peace and complacency have made the so-called warriors of this land soft and pliable. Easily defeated and broken).

She has little time to consider this before Smee is crying out for her, panic in his voice. She turns to him, her hand still gripping Emma’s wrist, and that’s when she sees Bae bent against Smee, held up by the much shorter man. “He’s bleeding out, Captain!”

And so he is, pools of red flowing off his shirt and onto the deck. Bae tries to offer her an impish smile, but his forehead is bright and shiny with sweat, and the best he can manage is a grimace.

“Bae!” Emma cries out, and then she’s breaking away from Regina, and rushing to him. Smee lowers him at the same time, down to the deck, Bae wincing at the hard surface under him.

Regina is there immediately, kneeling beside Emma, her hands reaching out to check the injury. Ten seconds later, she knows how this will end. How once again she's about to lose someone she loves. She angrily curses the loss of her magic again. “You fool," she hisses.

“It looked like an adventure,” Bae tells her between dry painful coughs, and it’s pretty much his life philosophy.

“Dammit, Bae.”

She looks desperately up at Marian, who has appeared from the cabin. Marian – who has produced so many miracles over the years with the softness of her touch and the keenness of her eyes - bends down next to them, hands reaching out confirm what Regina already knows. Almost immediately, she shakes her head, visibly shaken by the severity of his wound.

“No,” Regina murmurs, “ _No_.”

“Hey, hey now, it was fun, Regina,” Bae offers, blinking slowly. “We had fun.”

“No, this wasn’t supposed to happen,” she argues, violently glaring over at Emma.

Not that the girl notices; her hands are on Bae’s face, and she’s saying her goodbyes to him. Quietly, not trembling. Somehow finding a measure of steel in Bae’s last moments alive.

It’s fascinating to observe, and all Regina can do is watch for a moment.

The Princess murmurs, and brushes hair from his brow, “You’re going to be okay now.”

“Will you be?” he asks, bloody fingers curling over hers.

She smiles sadly at him, and Regina sees awareness in her eyes, understanding of her now dire situation; her love is dying and leaving her unprotected with the greatest enemy of her mother and father. By any and every standard, that can’t be considered a good thing.

“I’ll be fine,” Emma replies, the lie in her words far too loud to ignore.

Bae swallows, eyes shifting to Regina, “You’ll protect her?”

“Captain,” Smee says from her side. “We need to set sail; Snow White’s men are approaching.”

“My only concern is you,” Regina answers, for the moment ignoring Smee entirely.

“My kid,” he gasps out, blood on his lips. He coughs, and follows up with, “Please.”

“We’ll be fine,” Emma assures him once more. “The Queen will protect me and our child.”

Regina’s eyebrows rise, unmistakable surprise registering on her face. Before she can argue, though, Bae says to Emma, voice breaking with pain and the end of things, “You’ll make sure to tell our kid stories about me, right? Let him know that I would have been a good dad. That I would have loved him so much.”

“I promise,” Emma tells him. “He’ll know.”

“Good, good.” His hand goes up to Emma’s face, caressing it for a few seconds before dropping away, leaving a trail of blood across her cheek as his life fades away. One final broken smile at Regina, one last, “It _was_ fun,” and then his eyes stop moving, staring upwards at the sky high above. Her hand sweeping out first to forever close his eyes, Regina then drops her head, places her forehead against his, and holds it there, heart aching and tears falling down.

Until she hears, “Your Majesty –“

“Go home, Princess,” she hisses, her voice cold and dripping with venom.

“But you said –“

“Your mother’s men want you. If I give you back to them, maybe they will leave me and my crew alone.” She looks up at Emma, rage in her eyes. If she’d still had magic, they’d be glowing.

“And you’re willing to surrender your greatest weapon of attack against my parents?”

“What kind of game is this to you?” Regina demands. “Are you aware of what I’ve lost? You and your horrible perfect family have cost me enough. Once again…I want all of you out of my life.”

Ignoring most of Regina’s words, Emma says instead, “Are you aware of what _I’ve_ lost?”

“Your virginity and dignity?” Regina sneers, stepping threateningly close, her eyes glittering with the madness of grief. “I care little of either, dear. I’m not your self-righteous mother; neither one of those…lies told by old creepy kings and lords holds any value to me.”

“My innocence. And I don’t mean sexually. I mean…to my parents.” She glances out towards the docks, her eyes flickering past the crew as it hurriedly works to set sail. “I ran away, and will now be returning home, pregnant by an outlaw pirate.”

“That’s your problem, not mine. That you’re afraid of your mommy and daddy –“

“No more than you are,” Emma retorts.

Regina’s eyes blaze at that. In two quick steps, she’s right up on the Princess, a hand wrapped around her throat. Had she magic still, she muses that she could have done this from across the deck, but perhaps the raw physicality of this – especially with as much heartbreak and grief as she currently feels – is more satisfying, anyway. “How dare you; you know _nothing_ of me.”

“I know your story.”

“You know _their_ story.”

“Then tell me yours.”

Regina scoffs loudly, bitterly in response. “This isn’t story-time for spoiled little girls. I’m not here to educate you. Go home, Princess. Before I change my mind, and bury you at sea.”

“You’re right; I am afraid. Afraid of being locked away in a little room, and treated as broken and disappointing.” She smiles grimly at that. “Which I suppose _you_ would argue that I am.”

“I would use the word manipulative,” Regina shoots back.

“I’m trying to appeal to your better instincts.”

“Then you are wasting your time, because I have none, Princess.”

“Bae believed otherwise.”

Regina stares at her for a long moment. “And what is it that you expect from me? Because despite the presumption of your words, I won’t protect you. You mean _nothing_ to me.”

“Bae –“

“Bae is dead,” Regina hisses. “Because he loved you, he’s dead. And maybe you should be, too.”

“Regina,” Marian says softly, from somewhere beside her.

That’s enough to make Regina take a breath, a silent sharp acknowledgement that perhaps she'd gone a step too far on that response. She looks around and sees her crew watching, waiting to see how she’s going to react to this newest loss of theirs. All wondering if she’d really kill this pregnant girl. Returning her attention to Emma, she shakes her head. “I admit, I underestimated you. I saw you as a weak little paper doll just waiting to be told where to go and what to do, but you’re more than that, aren’t you? You’re exactly like your mother. You take and you take, and you destroy everything in your path all the while believing that you’re someone  _good_.”

“Maybe I’m not good. Maybe I’m…exactly what you think I am. But I am not my mother. I’m…I just want to be free,” Emma tells her, her head down, her eyes low. “I just want to feel like my life is my own and not…my mother’s to decide and control. You understand that, don’t you?”

The words stop Regina cold; Bae had argued the same thing on Emma’s behalf, but somehow, hearing the words coming straight from the girl make the impact of them stronger.

She stares hard at Emma, wondering and thinking and –

“Captain!” Smee yells out. “We’re out of time now!”

Regina turns, eyes widening, a growl pressing forward as she sees the rapidly approaching soldiers, their swords drawn. They might be soft, but there are dozens and dozens of them.

Smee is right; they are out of time.

For everything, including the Princess disembarking.

Regina curses, reaches for Emma’s hand once again, and spins around her, practically throwing her towards her second mate, “Marian!” she snaps. “Take the girl to my quarters.”

“Aye, Captain,” Marian answers, her own hand closing around Emma’s forearm.

“Why?” Emma asks, clearly alarmed. “What –“

“I don’t have time to deal with you,” Regina tells her. Then, darkly, “But I will. I would not advise getting unpacked, Princess; one way or another, you won’t be our guest for very long.”

Neither Regina nor Marian give Emma time to respond; furiously, she turns away from Emma, her eyes focused on the shore and the billowing sails as Marian yanks her away.

Making Emma wonder if her desperate bid for freedom has become a death sentence.

 

* * *

 

They just do escape the shore, the immense speed of the _Jolly Roger_ taking her very talented and clever crew deep out into the ocean in a hurry. It’s only once Regina can no longer see the town, knowing that Snow’s fleet will be several days behind them (the fleet isn’t used to chasing anyone down, anymore, merely transport and trade), that she allows herself a breath.

And then she sees Bae’s body, still and cold, and she rages.

The crew watches as she screams, and they bow their heads in respect.

Once she finally sags against a wooden post, her energy spent, she turns and quietly says to Smee, “We release him back to the ocean once the moon has fully risen over the horizon.”

“Aye, Captain,” he says, his knit cap held against his chest in respect.

“I’m going to go check on our unwanted guest.”

“Marian said she went to your quarters without a fight.”

“She’s a dull witless little wallflower,” Regina states. “What did you expect?”

“Due respect, Majesty, but I don’t believe that Bae would fall for such a girl.”

“Bae fell for anything with blonde hair and a smile. And look what it cost him. Cost all of us.”

“What… is your plan for her?” Smee inquires, seeming to know how delicate this situation is.

How volatile his captain is right at the moment.

He’s been sailing with her for twenty years, and he’d sailed with Hook for hundreds of years before that – he has a fair amount of experience dealing with emotional meltdowns, and he knows that trying to step in the path of one is suicide.

“I don’t have one,” Regina admits. “If she survives tonight, then I guess we shall see.”

He inclines his head in understanding, knowing that it’s pointless to argue with her.

Not while Bae cools on the deck, and Snow White and Prince Charming are in the distance.

 

* * *

 

The young princess, almost twenty-one years of age, stands up, her hands twisting anxiously in front of her, and so Regina allows herself to really look at the girl. To see her flawless beauty.

To see her youth and innocence.

Only she’s not so innocent, is she? Raised by two parents so terrified of losing power that they’d locked her away inside of an idealistic cocoon, protecting her from the world.

And in doing so, made her recklessly crave that world.

Which Regina gets, but well, relating isn’t really the problem here, now is it?

“Your Majesty,” Emma starts, inclining forward as if to bow.

“Don’t,” Regina snaps. “I’m not interested in your pathetic displays of subservience.”

Emma’s mouth opens as if to protest, and then rapidly snaps shut as it occurs to her that she’s not exactly sure what she would be protesting. Finally, instead, she says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me, Princess, what is it that you think you’re apologizing for?”

“For the loss of someone you loved.” Emma smiles wistfully. “I loved him, too.”

Regina snorts derisively. “Do you even know what love is, Princess?”

Emma answers automatically, “Love is sacrifice.”

“Sounds like something your insipid parents would say. Two morons who have never lost a thing.”

“My grandfather –“

Regina growls, and then she has Emma up against the wall, her hands around Emma's throat. “You need to survive tonight.”

“Tonight? Why…why tonight?” Emma gasps out, hands clawing at Regina’s, fighting for air.

“Because if you do, it means I have use for you. But make no mistake, if you speak of Snow’s father again, it won’t matter; I’ll make sure the fish are feeding on you by morning. Do I make myself clear?”

Emma nods mutely.

Satisfied, Regina releases her, moving away to stare out the window of the cabin.

“I did love him,” Emma insists. Then, frowning like the words taste strangely in her mouth she, adds, “I would have been a good wife.”

“Is that what you have always aspired to be?” Regina asks without turning. “A wife?”

“Love is…it’s happiness,” Emma stammers it, and it sounds so ingrained as to be painful.

So drilled into her, and Regina has a pretty damn good idea by whom.

“No, Princess, love is pain. It makes you weak and it robs you of hope. It destroys you.”

Emma lifts her head up, finding a bit more confidence when she says, “I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Regina answers, finally turning around to look at her, staring so intensely at her that it makes Emma shift anxiously. “You’ll sleep in here tonight.”

“And tomorrow?”

“We’ll deal with that when it comes. The moon is rising.”

“I don’t –“

“It’s time to say goodbye to Bae.”

“I’d like to –“

“Not a chance,” Regina replies, low and seething, and then she’s out of the cabin, the door slamming behind her.

 

* * *

 

It’s while Bae’s body is being prepared for the sea that Marian approaches, “Can we speak?”

“Quickly, Marian,” she replies, her hands settled against the hips of her leather overcoat.

“Emma should be here for this.”

“You’re wasting words on the girl?” Regina asks in disbelief.

“She’s carrying Bae’s child; he would want her to be here to say goodbye.”

“I allowed your voice, but I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

“No,” Marian concedes with a smile, seemingly aware that aside from Smee, over the years she has been afforded the most time with the Captain’s ear, allowed more license than others to speak out of turn with her. “But you have occasionally asked for my guidance during our darker days.”

“Your point?”

“My point here, Captain, is that while her parents have harmed you, the girl has not.”

“She’s why Bae is dead.”

“Bae is why Bae is dead,” Marian corrects gently. “Booker told me that Bae went forward when the rest of you were trying to retreat.” And…” she licks her lips. “Booker told me that it wasn’t the Princess the soldiers saw in there. He said that it was –“

“Me,” Regina finishes. “He’s right.” She turns towards her cabin. “She’s not…unlike who I was.”

“Let her say goodbye. And if in the morning, you choose to let her go –” Regina huffs at that. “Or keep her –” She huffs once more, both options unappealing. “You will find that your crew as always stands in solidarity with you. But…this is what Bae would want.”

“Fine,” Regina concedes, her head dipped towards Marian in acceptance. “For Bae.”

 

* * *

 

To her credit, Emma  says nothing as Bae's body is given to the ocean, and says nothing as the ordained minister in the crew offers up the blessings of the sea. She just watches, looking lost and somehow both much older and younger than she is.

When it’s over, Emma murmurs a quiet “thank you” to Regina, and starts to retreat to the captain’s cabin. “A moment, Princess,” Regina says, the ocean a loud backdrop to her words.

Emma turns. “Your Majesty?”

“Do try to survive until morning,” Regina says thickly.

“And then what? What am I to you? A burden or a bargaining chip?” she very astutely asks.

“Both,” Regina replies, and then she’s motioning to Marian to take Emma away again.

 

* * *

 

Regina sleeps on-deck that night, something she never would have considered doing as the Queen, but something the young girl who had once fallen for a stable boy would have loved to do. These days, she feels almost closer to that girl than she’s been in many years, but even so, the viciously deep battle wounds and soul-deep scars of the Queen remain visible.

Perhaps unhealable.

Especially as long as Snow White lives.

Oh, but then, wouldn’t it be easy to strike such a similarly terrible blow to Snow? Twenty years have passed, and Snow and her shepherd prince only have one child; losing that child would devastate them and their kingdom. It would be an unanswerable attack, a savage strike.

And so easily done; the Princess is weak and soft, and killing her would be…so very simple.

So why then does she hesitate? Why does she feel so uncertain about this? So unclear?She hasn’t changed that much, has she?

Enough to forego obvious vengeance?

No, she decides. Not at all.

She simply wants to extend their torment.

Take from them.

Their daughter. Their grandchild. Their _family_.

She wants to take away their belief in Good always vanquishing Evil.

(because it’s a lie, anyway, and they’re not nearly as Good as they believe…)

She wants to destroy their faith in the ideal of hope, burn it like her own has been burnt.

Scatter is like burnt ash.

That’s what she wants to do; destroy their child, destroy them all.

She tells herself that she can do this.

Tells herself Emma is merely a pawn, and harming her is just due payback.

Vengeance owed.

Eyes on the starry sky above, she marvels at just how good she’s gotten at lying to herself.

 


	2. Two.

In the early morning, just after the sun has risen, Marian brings Emma breakfast – fruit and eggs. “You’re in luck – everything is fresh; we just replenished our galley.” She hands Emma the plate. “Eat. The Captain wants to be sure that you are well-fed.”

“So she’s going to let me live.” 

“She’s not as bad as your stories make her out to be,” Marian assures her, once again offering the plate to Emma. Once Emma takes it, she adds on, “At least not this Regina.”

“Neither are my parents.” 

“And yet you ran from them.” 

“They’re…they’re not bad people,” Emma replies, a dullness in her tone. “They’ve gone through so much to win the happiness they have. They just want what they think is best for me.”

“Which is what?” 

 “A princess,” Emma answers, stabbing at one of the pieces of melon.

“Ah. My father wanted a healer. Like my mother before me, and hers before her.” 

“Are you not a healer? I saw you trying to help Bae,” Emma notes.

“Where my soft hands have purpose,” Marian agrees. “But, I don’t think this is quite what they imagined for me when the woman they had me apprenticing with assured them that I had gifted hands. But…” she laughs, the sound unfettered by the kinds of self-doubt, which tend to run rampant in Emma. “That was never going to happen. Even before I ended up on this ship, thanks to Hook, I was running around with a band of outlaws in the forest. And now, I’m here.” 

“Did choosing this life cost you much?”

“It did. But I found a new family and a new purpose; I’m happy here.”

“I’m going to have a child,” Emma says, her hand tracking down to her belly. “I don’t think my happiness matters much, anymore. My mother would say the only thing that does is my baby.” 

“Do you wish you weren’t pregnant?” 

“No…I…I want this child. Very much. I just don’t think that I’m…” she stops herself short, as if afraid that what she will says will expose her entirely too much. “What is to come for me?” 

“I don’t know. The Queen is unresolved on what she wants to do with you.”

“You call her so many names,” Emma observes. 

“She is many things,” she replies. “Including uncertain about you. If you ask her to go home –“

“She won’t give up a chance to hurt my parents,” Emma states, her lip trembling with the kind of dark certainty of Regina’s nature which has been ground into her throughout her childhood.

“You might be surprised.” Marian smiles at her and then nods to the food. “Eat up.”

 

* * *

 

The ocean air is  furious this morning; throwing the door of the cabin open with a mighty startling crash. Emma watches as Regina braces herself in the doorway, fighting the wind as she struggles to close the door, her hair curly and whipping about, wild and beautiful. Much in the same way that the woman herself is, Emma thinks, and then immediately blushes. Because it’s bad enough that she’s an unwed pregnant princess… 

And this woman, no matter her turbulent beauty, is her family’s sworn enemy. 

“Is Marian right?” Emma quickly asks, anything to move her mind away from silly thoughts. 

“About what?” Regina asks, an eyebrow arched, as she latches the door. 

“That if I asked you to let me go home, you would?”

“She told you that, did she? As always, Marian speaks out of turn.” 

“Is that a yes or a no?” 

Regina cocks her head, equal parts amused and annoyed with her. “Where did this spirit come from, Princess? Just yesterday, you clung to me, quivering like a scared pathetic child.”

“My lover is dead, I’m pregnant, and I’m on a pirate ship captained by my parents’ mortal enemy; you’ll excuse me if think that the only chance I have of surviving is to ask questions.” 

“One would argue that this provides you the worst chance of surviving.”

“I’ll risk it,” Emma shoots back, and oh yes, there is fire in this girl, indeed. 

Perhaps buried deep, and only stoked by fear and desperation now, but there all the same.

Regina chuckles. “So, are you asking to go home, then? Back to mommy and daddy and your walls? I thought you dreamt of freedom? I thought you wanted to see the world, Princess.” 

“I don’t want to die, and I don’t believe that you care if I live.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive.”

“I’m pregnant,” Emma reiterates. “I think we both know that I can’t do this on my own.”

That earns her a darkly derisive huff from Regina. “You’d be surprised at the things you’re capable of when you have no choice, Princess. Or do you believe yourself too weak for that?”

“I don’t know what I believe, anymore,” Emma says quietly, her energy ebbing, her defeated spirit overwhelming her fire. “I just know no one believes that I can do this so why should I?”

“I’m neither your therapist nor your horrible mother, dear; it’s not my responsibility to solve your many insipid problems or to inspire you to find your fight.” 

“No, it’s not, which…” Emma swallows hard, “Is why I suppose I am asking to go home.” 

Regina tilts her head. “But…you don’t want to.”

“My mother,” Emma says. “Believes that the only safety for me is found within the castle. She thinks it silly for me to want to explore outside of it. Believes I have everything I need at home.” 

“Snow…White thinks...that’s what she thinks?” Regina asks in lip-curled-up disbelief. All the while wondering what had happened to warp Snow into being three shades away from Cora. 

“She does. My father, he’s more willing to hear me out at times, but –“

“He always gives into her. Yes, I’m well aware of your father’s…weak-willed ways.” 

“He loves her.”

“Love isn’t supposed to be surrender, Princess. I think you’re allowed some say in things.” 

“Maybe, but you see, it doesn’t matter what I want,” Emma replies defiantly. “I owe this child.” 

Regina stares at her for a long moment, then sighs dramatically as she turns away from Emma, dismissing her even as she moves to leave the cabin. “I’ve changed my mind; you may stay.”

“Excuse me?”

Regina turns back, glaring sharply at Emma, perhaps putting on a bit of a show just for dramatic effect. “Has pregnancy caused you to go deaf? I don’t recall that as one of the symptoms.”

“You –“ Emma stops mid-sentence, understanding that this is not the time for such questions. She takes a deep breath, and then starts again. “I asked to go home, Your Majesty; not stay.”

“I know what you asked, but Bae was part of my crew, which means his child is also my responsibility. And I would be remiss to allow the mother of his child to be… _there_.” 

“There. With my parents, you mean.” 

“They clearly did a terrible job of raising you if you’re so soft and docile as to think that a gilded prison is better than a chance at freedom. I know that life; Bae’s child deserves better than it.”

“And me? I thought it wasn’t your responsibility to help me ‘find my fight’?” 

Regina just stares back at her, unwilling to respond, unwilling to reveal her churning thoughts. 

Which leaves Emma to sum them up for herself. “So this is still revenge against them.” 

“Call it what you what, Princess –“ 

“Emma,” she snaps suddenly, then looks almost horrified by it. Intentionally softening her voice, she says again, “Emma. If…if I’m going to be here, I would like to have a name. _Mine_.”

“And yet you gave yourself a new last name: Swan. Why?” 

“Because it fits me more than my titles ever have. So if you must call me something –“ 

“Fine,” Regina grits out. “ _Miss Swan_. You may stay. Until the child is born.”

“And then?”

“I would suggest, dear girl, that you stop staring out at the horizon. What you see might look like the sun is the strongest force there is, but the clouds will always overcome it. This world is bitter and ugly, and so is everything in it,” Regina tells her, her own history playing out behind her eyes. “We can delay the inevitable, make today shiny and beautiful, but eventually, reality catches up, and we all have to face the fact that there is very little worthwhile within it.” 

“I don’t want that for my child,” Emma admits, unable to hide her many doubts and fears. 

“It doesn’t matter what we want; we can’t change the inevitable.” 

“Then why bother? Why…try to survive?” Emma asks, motioning about. “Why do you try?” 

 “Because it’s all I know to do,” Regina replies blandly. “Are we done with the silly questions?” 

“No. I don’t understand. If it’s all just going to end up that way – ugly and bitter, anyway – why help me? Just to hurt my parents?” Emma stares at her, seeming so unlike the girl who had seemed so terrified yesterday. “That doesn’t…I don’t - Marian said the stories about you –“ 

“As I said, Marian speaks out of turn. Try to get some sleep; we’re all headed for rough seas.” 

“Metaphorically or –“

“All of the above,” Regina replies quietly, then leaves the cabin once again.

Leaving Emma to a thousand wandering thoughts about Regina, all of them at odds.

 

* * *

 

The storm hits hard, rocking the _Jolly Roger_ violently for hours, the winds cutting and cold as they seep through the boards, chilling her even with heavy blankets wrapped around her. Huddled tight on the extra bedding which has been brought in for her, Emma listens to the crew and to Regina as they shout back and forth at each other, protecting their ship against the tempest.

Her stomach rolls, and she throws up the meager lunch Smee had brought her.

And maybe, she thinks grimly, her breakfast as well. 

Sickly, tears in her eyes, she wonders if her mother was right.

Wonders if the only safety is inside the castle walls, so far away from here now. 

Wincing, Emma curls into a ball, hand over her belly, and sleeps as fitfully as the ocean tosses.

 

* * *

 

It’s nightfall when Regina returns to the cabin, a cup of tea in her hand as she undresses herself with her other one. Her eyes fall upon the sleeping princess, musing about how her desire to take from Snow has ended up with her having a roommate for the foreseeable future. An annoying reality, for sure, but her own fault the moment she’d decided to keep the girl on-board. It really would have been so much easier to return her to her parents…or kill her. 

Both solutions would have likely brought back the same response from Snow, anyway. 

Because plainly, something has twisted inside her former stepdaughter. A girl once so bright and full of annoyingly never-ending hope appears to now be a woman consumed by fear.

Even with the Evil Queen vanquished from the Enchanted Forest for almost two decades.

Perhaps, especially because of that; it would seem that Snow has become just as obsessed with her as she once was with Snow, and because of that, she’s warped everything around her.

Regina sighs, lifts up another blanket and drapes it over Emma’s sleeping, shivering form. 

“Thank you,” she hears Emma say softly, turning slightly in the bedding, towards her.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Regina states, kneeling beside her. “Good. Drink this.”

“What is it?” 

“Rat poison,” Regina answers without missing a beat.

Emma startles. “But –“

Regina huffs in annoyance. “It’s tea; it’ll soothe your stomach.”

“Oh.” Emma sits up, blinking as she looks at Regina, seeming like she’s going to say something.

“Don’t make too much of this,” Regina warns sharply, and then offers nothing further. 

So Emma dutifully drinks from the cup, making a face as she tastes the fluid. “It’s –“

“Disgusting, but it will help.”

Emma looks at her through the shadows of the room, her confusion apparent as she tries to understand this woman, who has otherwise treated her with such hostility. She thinks to ask why the kindness now, but then decides maybe she doesn’t want to know.

And besides, Regina is turning away from her, anyway, continuing to undress. 

Which Emma supposes is its own problem as she sees the tanned skin of Regina’s back. 

She closes her eyes, and rolls away, willing herself back to sleep. Sleep that will not come until she knows one thing for certain.  “Your Majesty,” she asks, soft and uncertain.

“Princess?” Regina sighs. There’s a long pause so she corrects with an impatient, “Miss Swan?” 

“I don’t know why you’re being kind to me tonight; I suppose it hardly matters, but I need to know that if I die out here – if you choose to kill me, eventually – that you’ll protect my child?” 

“You’re staring at the horizon again.” 

“Maybe, but…this _does_ matter. To me. I know you think very little of me; believe me, you’re far from the only person who sees me as little more than a silly, stupid blonde girl, but my son doesn’t deserve to suffer for my weakness.” 

“You know it’s a boy?” Regina chuckles, turning towards her. “How?” 

“Did you know what each of your children were?” Emma queries as their eyes to meet through the darkness, a tremor in her voice as she asks a question she know she has no right to ask. 

Regina says nothing for long enough to make Emma regret the question, but then finally, her voice very soft, “There were three of them. Two of them passed from me within the first three months. The last one made it almost to six months before I lost him to…my body. And yes, I knew what each of them were long before I was told.”

“I know,” Emma affirms. “It’s a boy. _My_ boy. So I need you to promise me –“ 

“I think I preferred you when you were a little meeker and more respectful,” Regina grumbles. 

Again, this time quieter, Emma’s disembodied voice floats across the darkness. “ _Promise me.”_

“I promise,” Regina allows. Then adds, her voice as dry as sandpaper, “After I use your fingernails to cast protective wards over the ship, your hair for vitality elixirs, and bury the rest of you in pieces across the realms, I promise I’ll protect your son from…whatever.” 

“I…appreciate that,” Emma replies, her voice heavy with exhaustion and the need for rest. Another few second pass and then because the gnawing curiosity is simply too much for her, she asks, “Would you really do that? Use my body parts –“ 

“Go to sleep, Miss Swan.”

She gets no reply to that beyond the rustling of bedding. 

She knows she should leave it at that; stop from offering any further kindness to this girl. 

This princess who is merely a pawn in a war beyond her understanding.

But she remembers being such a thing, and remembers the self-loathing and self-doubts which had violently corroded her spirit and corrupted her soul so Regina says, “For what it’s worth, weakness would have been not being strong enough to speak up for yourself or your child. You are capable of far more than the expectations of others, Miss Swan; perhaps it’s time for you to believe that.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Emma replies, and has the good sense not to push beyond that. 

Beneath them, the ship rocks, calmer against the night tide than the day water. 

And Regina wonders what madness she’s exposed herself to with this newest vow of hers.

 

* * *

 

It takes Emma almost a week to find her sea-legs.

Before that, she’d spent most of those early days and nights either slung over a railing or bent over a pail. Whimpering pitifully, she’d been incapable of holding down much beyond simple bone broth and the tea which Regina has brought to her regularly. By the end of the week, though, she’s able to straighten up; she’s still a bit green, and Regina has a terrible suspicion that much of Emma’s time on the _Jolly Roger_ will be marked by her needing to vomit, but at least she is finally adapting to the movement of the ocean.

Finally adapting to this new reality of hers.

Of theirs. 

“Do you struggle at all?” Regina asks her one late night as she peers across a barrel top, dice in her hand. She knows that she shouldn’t start this fight - she really isn't even all that irritated at Emma, beyond her presence in general - but she’s tired and spoiling for a fight.

“Struggle with what?” Emma asks. 

“This freedom which you’ve been afforded?” Regina challenges, noticing the way that her crew (well except for Marian) is pretending not to pay attention; they know their captain well, and know that when’s she’s like this, it’s best to not add fuel to the fire. “This open air. These new...choices which you've been allowed.” 

“I have choices?” Emma counters. “Am I not a prisoner, Your Majesty?”

Regina’s eyes flicker to her. “There’s a railing over there. You’re more than welcome to jump.”

“Regina,” Marian murmurs.

“No,” Regina answers sharply. “I could have sent her back to her wretched kingdom in pieces. Twenty years ago, I would have. Or, I could have sent her back to live under her awful –“ 

“They’re not awful,” Emma protests, automatic and instinctual. 

“Try again,” Regina snaps. “This time try saying it like you believe it.” 

Chairs shift, and two of the crewmen mutter about needing to get to bed. 

“Fine,” Emma allows. “I’m not a prisoner. But I’m not a guest, either.” 

This time, it’s Regina’s turn to counter. “Aren’t you? Did I miss you contributing to the crew? Or are you just...helping yourself to our hospitality as anyone associated with Snow White tends to do?"

Two more stand up to leave, one stating loudly that she has a shift on deck starting soon. 

“Then let me,” Emma requests. “Contribute, I mean.” 

Regina laughs. “You’re joking. What can you do?”

“Regina,” Marian says again, and really, she is the only one who defies the no adding fuel to the fire rule. Perhaps, paradoxically, that’s why over the years she’s been afforded so much license to.

But Regina isn’t in the mood for that tonight, so agitated is she by this girl who has seemed to crawl her way under Regina’s skin like few others have ever done before. “Stop trying to handle me,” Regina demands. “And stop protecting her. My question is a valid one. Just yesterday, she was hurling her insides out into the ocean. And the day before that. And the day –“ 

“All due respect, Captain, your first week at sea wasn’t much better,” Marian reminds her. 

Which earns her an icy glare.

Marian holds up her hands. “All I’m saying is, we have little room for guests here. We’re a working ship on the run. Perhaps, let’s allow Emma to see where she fits in here.” 

Emma lifts her chin, defiance shinning her in blue-green eyes. “You’re angry at me for being Snow White's daughter; I can't change who I was born to. But...but maybe I can try to be more than that. I can try to be...useful here if you'll let me be." 

Regina scowls darkly. “Fine. But if you’re going to be part of the crew, you have to dress like it.” She disdainfully points towards the simple dress that Emma has been wearing since she’d come aboard. In town, she used it to hide her identity. Out here, it makes her stand out all the more. 

“I can do that."

Regina laughs at that, the sound too high to be honest. “Tell me, where did this sudden can-do spirit come from? What happened to the too-weak-to-survive-alone girl?” 

“You told me to believe that I was capable of more.” 

Regina’s teeth grit at that, eyes dark and fiery, staring at Emma, and waiting for her to wither. 

“Is that so?” she finally manages, when it becomes clear that Emma – this girl who just a few days ago had seemed frail and already defeated - is going to attempt to stand her ground.

Emma offers the smallest of smiles, uncertain and shyly aware of the perception of her, and answers with, “Yes. I can do this.”

“We’ll see,” Regina says dismissively, and then walks away, her heels clicking on the planks. 

"She really doesn't like me," Emma notes, looking over at Marian, who is watching her with what looks like pride in her eyes.

"Is that what you saw there? Interesting."

Emma's mouth opens in protest, then closes again. Finally, "I...I need clothes. Will you help me?"

Marian slips an arm around Emma. "Of course."

 

* * *

 

The clothes – loose black breeches and a pale blue vest over a thin white cotton shirt – they find for Emma aren’t the greatest fit, but they’re loose enough to accommodate her rapidly swelling belly, and they will stretch with her as she moves into the later months of her pregnancy. Most importantly, though, they allow her movement, and as she learns about life aboard a working ship, that’s a definite plus. As far as contributing to the crew, as it turns out, Emma is a wonderfully talented cook, which is both surprising and not surprising at once.

And a bit annoying because she’s a princess, and Regina can’t figure out if teaching Emma to cook had been Snow’s attempt at making her relatable to the peasants or a play at making her more feminine for marrying reasons. It’s still baffling to Regina that instead of showing her how to survive any situation as she had once been able to do, Snow had chosen to turn her daughter into a living porcelain doll whose only purpose appears to be to smile and look very pretty.

No, Regina corrects darkly, Emma’s purpose is to remind everyone that Snow White had won.

To remind them all that Good had conquered Evil and Good is pure and innocent. Thus, Emma must always be the _Perfect Princess_ in order to reaffirm the victory of Good over Evil. 

Absurd, juvenile, and frankly just stupidly insulting, and Snow more than most should know this, but Regina supposes that she’s not the only one good at telling herself pretty little lies.

All the same, cooking is an appreciated art out here on the water, and Emma quickly makes herself valuable to a crew who had previously treated her with suspicion. They’re all aware that her presence here has put a bounty on their heads. It’s only the reality that they’re pirates (it’s not like they don’t have bounties on their heads, anyways) which lets them laugh off any danger. 

That same soft shy, almost self-depreciating smile that she’d offered Regina the night she’d challenged her is also appreciated by the rest of the crew. She’s constantly uncertain, but quick with a laugh that comes close to raucous when something truly amuses her. That is until she feels foolish, and then she’s just as quick to retreat and fall silent, curling into herself. A learned skill, Regina thinks as she watches Emma interact with the crew. She remembers such skills all too well from growing up with Cora, from always being fearful of stepping over one of her mother’s lines.

Her many, _many_ lines.

Occasionally, Emma looks over, and catches Regina watching. Sometimes she smiles and holds the smile until it becomes clear that Regina won’t be answering it (yes, Regina feels like an ass when she doesn’t, but she tells herself that maybe she should try be the one member of this crew who doesn’t end up hopelessly enamored with Emma). Sometimes, Regina looks back at her, and then there’s a brief staring contest followed by _both_ of them looking away. It’s almost funny to Regina – funny and very interesting – that the girl seems like she is almost always willing to challenge _her_.

At least for a few moments.

There really isn’t time to consider her thoughts on this, though, because she’s the captain of a fugitive ship heading into the middle of winter, and she has a large crew with needs and peculiarities and worse than all that, she has a second trimester pregnant royal “hostage” of sorts, and her already very complicated life is so much more so now that it’s almost comical.

She muses to herself that perhaps it might have just been easier to forgive Snow long ago.

 

* * *

 

There’s a night just about four weeks into Emma’s stay with them when she’s too tired to remember that she’s supposed to not like the girl. She’s been battling a mild cough for a few days, and the only thing that helps her feel remotely better is the chill of the post sunset air across her face.

It’s while she’s seeking this out, minding the helm by herself when she sees Emma standing by the rail just below, gazing out at the water, a cloak around her to warm her, and her hand settled on her visibly rounded belly.  

“Are you all right, Princess?” she calls out, her voice raspy from the ridiculous cough.

Emma turns and smiles softly at her. “Just thinking.” She chuckles. “I know: don’t.” 

Regina shrugs. “Depends on what you’re thinking about.” 

“All of the stories I’ve ever been told. About my parents. About you.” 

“I see. And what conclusions have you come to?”

“I don’t know yet.” 

Regina nods slowly, thoughtfully. Then, “Come up here.” 

Emma’s eyebrow lifts. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Come up here,” Regina repeats. 

Deciding it would be unwise to decline a request – one that sounds more like an order, if Emma is honest with herself – twice, she moves up the step towards Regina and the helm. 

“Have you ever steered a ship before?” Regina asks, her voice low and gravelly.

It’s a confusingly pleasant sound, Emma realizes.

Then reminds herself that Regina has been under the weather, and they’re enemies and –

“No!” Emma blurts out. Then takes a breath. “My father wanted to show me, but –“ 

“Your mother didn’t see a reason to,” Regina finishes, shaking her head and frowning. 

It’s strange, but Emma thinks Regina almost sounds upset by this; somehow…let down. 

“My mother wants me safe.” 

Regina rolls her eyes, then steps behind Emma, seeming not to notice the way Emma inhales sharply when Regina’s arms come around the front of her before reaching forward and taking both of her hands and then placing them on the wheel. “It’s all very easy,” Regina instructs, so warm against her. “Or at least it would seem to be, but every move you make of this wheel has an effect on this ship.” 

“Why are you showing me this?” Emma asks quietly, her eyes on their joined hands on the wheel, trying to focus on it and not Regina.

“Because control is one of those things we fight so very hard for in our lives, and lose so very easily. This wheel seems so insignificant compared to the size of the ship or the amount of men and women who crew her, and yet one inch to the side –“ she shifts her hands slightly atop Emma’s, not quite moving the wheel but showing Emma how it could – “Changes much.” 

Emma turns, still partially in her arms (and Regina thinks it strange that what breaks this moment is the swell of Emma’s belly, and no, she doesn’t find this closeness as objectionable as she absolutely should considering), and looks at her; it’s a decidedly intimate pose for two women who have shown tolerance at best for each other, but for a time, they’re just gazing at one another, as if they're actively trying to understand. “But you can always shift back, right?” the young princess asks, almost pleading.

“If you don’t go too far,” Regina replies, a hand lifting to move hair from Emma’s eyes, the motion undeniably tender.

Emma swallows, trapped in dark eyes that seem bottomless, enraptured by the swirling emotion she sees there, so many conflicting things happening all at once. “And if you do?”

For some reason or another, that question seems to break the spell; abruptly, Regina pulls away, leaving only cold air between them.  “Then you end up like me.  A cautionary tale for children.”

“I don’t understand –“

“No, I didn’t think you would. Get to bed, Miss Swan; your son shouldn’t be out in this cold.”

“Should…should you be?” 

Regina doesn’t reply, just turns to the steering wheel, her back to Emma. 

A clear dismissal, though Emma still finds herself at a loss as to what she did to deserve it.

Defiantly, Emma lifts her chin. “Change is a good thing,” she insists. “We can become…better.” 

“Or something far worse,” Regina replies, her back still to Emma.

It’s clear that these are the last words Regina plans to say to her tonight.

Slowly, Emma steps down and away from the helm, turning back only to watch Regina cough into her hand twice before the Captain stares back out at the water. Deep in thought, arms crossed over the front of her, brooding about something. 

“Not my problem,” Emma tells herself, and then she’s walking away. 

Ignoring the part of her that desperately wants to go back.

 

* * *

 

The month passes into more, and Emma’s belly continues to grow rounder, even as she tries to throw herself into everything that she can in order to make herself part of this crew. Her eyes are wide with constant wonder, darkening only when morning sickness or the equally volatile moods of others – typically one person in specific - encroach upon her.

Forced cabin-mates, she and Regina continue to tolerate each other, moving around one another, and only having meaningful conversations late at night when exhaustion has worn away Regina’s defenses enough for her to offer a couple words or allow for a few questions. As long as the questions never go too deep, that is.

And as long as they never reveal too much about her past or what she’s thinking about now. 

Emma craves to know so much more about her, understand more about what exists beneath the stories, but Regina largely keeps her distance unless she’s the one asking the questions.

Unless she’s the one in control. 

The distance has to be about her mother, Emma assumes; a connection they can’t forget. 

It’s hardly a perfect life, but it’s a different one. 

It’s hard, and it’s exhausting, but she wakes up with the sun and sleeps with the stars, and she thinks that despite all the questions she has, she could very happily learn to love this life.  

Assuming she’s allowed to make that choice for herself.

It’s an assumption she doesn’t dare permit.

 

* * *

 

“We should jump realms,” Smee suggests, one afternoon as rain sprinkles down on them as they stand together at the helm, looking out at the waves that are beginning to grow choppy. They’ve been at sea for close to eight weeks, and the crew is restless and anxious. 

Before they’d come across Emma – come back into this realm – even with their rather seedy and legendary reputation (already incredible thanks to Hook, made more so by her) and their habit of infuriating local governments by stealing from them, things had been good for them, and it had been relatively easy for them to stop at ports and replenish supplies and…interests.

Now, there’s a need to keep moving, to stay clear of Snow and Charming’s ships. Yes, they could surely outrun one if it came after them, but against the entire fleet, they would struggle.

So they’ve stayed out as deep as is reasonable, living off the ocean and her many gifts.

But there have been a few icy winter storms that have scored the ship, and besides that, Emma probably needs the hands of an on-land healer. Marian can do much, and she has gone to tremendous lengths to ensure Emma’s health, but as Emma’s belly starts to truly swell, it seems ideal that someone who has access to the best available medicine verify that she’s well.

Ideal is risky, of course, but this is Bae’s son, and Regina reasons that she’d made him a promise. 

“You’re right, we should, but I’m not sure Emma could handle it,” Regina replies, frowning as she stares out at the uninterrupted expanse of blue water in front of them. Truth is, there’s a seldom discussed, but well-understood reality in realm jumping, a kind of desperate sense of vertigo that tends to overtake a person. For most healthy men and women, it’s just a bad case of motion sickness, but for someone like Emma, it could potentially cause complications. 

It’s not exactly like there’s been a lot of research around realm-hopping and pregnancy. 

“We can’t stay out here forever,” Smee tells her. “The crew grows restless, Captain.” 

“I know.” She nods. “I know. We need supplies and repairs and everyone needs some…space.” She turns to face him. “Bring a map to my cabin; we’ll decide which port to stop at.”

“Aye, Captain.” 

“The crew,” Regina asks abruptly, stopping his departure. “They haven’t lost faith in me, have they? They don’t think I was wrong in keeping the girl aboard with us, do they?” Her voice goes up in pitch just a bit, showing off her own insecurities. Years ago, as the Queen, she wouldn’t have cared about their thoughts – she’d long given up on winning the love of her people and bitterly settled for owning them instead – but almost inexplicably, these men and women mean something genuine and warm to her, and she finds herself constantly anxious about losing them. 

“No,” he insists. “They’re just on-edge from seeing the same thing every single day without a sign of land. We actually like having her here. She cooks and she is willing to do other jobs around. She even sings while she’s swabbing the deck.” He grimaces. “Emma’s not much of a singer, but the lads are willing to listen to her because she’s pretty.”

“Men,” Regina offers with a roll of her eyes.

Smee grins, then steps away, off to collect the map. 

She watches him for a moment, and then turns and heads into her cabin, stopping when she sees Emma standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, staring at herself in a mirror. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Regina asks dryly, leaning casually against the wall. She reasons that this is her quarters, and everything that is within it is at least somewhat hers, and so she allows her eyes to sweep appreciatively over Emma’s form. Curiously lean for a girl with her background (Regina chooses to believe that this muscle firming occurred during her time away from Snow and David, and perhaps even out here on the water) but rounded in the front, she’s strikingly beautiful. No, not Regina’s usual type – she’s not into pillow princesses, and she highly doubts that Emma is skilled in the sexual arts despite her current condition – but it’s hard not to look. Especially since it’s not like she’s even remotely interested in doing more than that.

_Obviously._

The Princess squeals, reaching for a blanket and pulling it over herself. “Captain!”

“That wasn’t an answer.” Regina steps closer. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“I am. I’m just…” she blinks furiously, blushing deeply; it’s an oddly lovely look on her. 

Regina grins. “You’ve been sharing my cabin for two months now, Miss Swan; I do believe that we have both seen the entirety of one another during that time, yes?”

That just deepens for the blush for some fascinating reason or another. “Ye…yes. It’s…not that. I mean not…entirely that.”

“Explain,” Regina says, her tone flat. She finds herself oddly intrigued by this girl, drawn in by the curious contradictions that occasionally surface. But also annoyed by her nervousness.

Every day that they’re out here together, she wonders if there’s steel to be found in Emma’s spine, and then once she spots it, she wonders what it will take to bring that fortitude out to stay.

What will it take to truly prove to Emma that the fire she sometimes feels is more the _true_ her than the quiet submissive meek nature which appears to have been bred into her? 

More importantly, perhaps, Regina wonders, when had she started to actually care about Emma? 

Like she needs yet another complication… 

“It’s just,” Emma starts, pulling Regina from her thoughts, bringing her attention back to the now as the girl pats her belly. “It doesn’t quite seem believable. That he’s in there. My son.”

“Ah,” Regina says gently, because she can recall such thoughts of her own long ago. So many questions about how it is possible for a body to carry – or in her case, not carry – a child within it. She had found numerous books on biology and physiology in Rumple’s library and read them all greedily, but come to the conclusion that none of the male-authored volumes had a clue. 

“I wonder if he has thoughts. If he knows who I am. If he understands language at all,” Emma says, babbling, and Regina’s brow crinkles because she thinks she almost finds this endearing. 

“I’m certain he’s comforted by you,” Regina tells her, and blames exhaustion for her kindness.

Running from Snow and Charming for almost two months now has been quite the energy drain. 

“I hope so,” Emma says, offering her a soft smile. Then, “Is something going on?” 

“We’re looking to head into port for a few days.”

“Is that safe?”

“It rarely is,” Regina answers wryly. “But well…pirate’s life and all of that sing-song nonsense.” 

Her brow furrowing, and with so much earnest sincerity in her voice, Emma asks, “Can I help at all?”

“Probably not, but you should get dressed; Smee will be here shortly and the last time you flashed him was bad enough. I thought he was going to throw himself through a wall.” 

Emma cocks her head, curiosity lifting her lips into a half-smile. “The men on this ship behave strangely around me. Especially for pirates. Almost like they’re terribly afraid of touching me.”

“They know that if they dared, I’d cut off their hands and put them in unmentionable places.”

“Oh!” Emma squeaks. Then, softly, “Why?” 

“Did you really think I was just going to let a bunch of pirates have their way with you?” 

“No, it’s just…” her chin lifts. “I can take care of myself.” 

Regina laughs, and steps forward, so that she’s just a few inches away, her dark eyes seeking out and finding Emma’s lighter ones, challenging her. “Can you now? Because I distinctly recall you clinging to me while I fought off your parent’s guards in the tavern.” 

“Marian has been… teaching me how to use a sword and not just in the way my mother showed me, which was more for show, I think,” Emma stammers, seeming terribly aware of Regina’s incredibly close proximity to her. Which is…interesting, to say the very least.

“Has she now?” Regina challenges, a predatory smile crossing her lips. Her hand reaches out, and she trails a finger across the back of Emma’s hand, making her shiver. “You’ll have to show me.” 

“Show you?” Emma repeats, sounding breathless.

“What you’ve learned, that is,” Regina answers, fingers still dancing across Emma’s hand. 

Emma’s eyes track down to Regina’s hand on hers, and then flicker up, curiously falling across Regina's lips. “I…what are you doing?”

It’s this almost frightened cloying bland innocence, which drags Regina away from her play. This girl intrigues her at times by showing sparks of…something perhaps deeper than what she first seems, but then she returns to the pretty, pretty princess demeanor, and Regina finds herself retreating as quickly as she can, repulsed and almost angry, both at her and on her behalf.

“Time to get dressed, Princess,” she snaps. “Mr. Smee will be here in a moment for us to settle on what port we will be going into, but afterwards, I want you to…show me what you learned.”

Emma swallows hard, reeling from Regina’s newest bit of hot and cold. “I’m not ready.”

Before Regina can reply, there’s a tap at the door. “We’ll get back to that,” she says to Emma, then calls out, “Hold a moment; our princess isn’t quite decent and ready for guests.” 

“You’re annoyed with me,” Emma states, frowning.

“How can you tell?” 

“You’re back to calling me ‘Princess”,” Emma replies.

“And you’re still not dressed. We have places to go, and things to do. Move it along.”

“I think you’re afraid of me,” Emma says suddenly, blanket still clutched to her naked body. “I think you’re afraid of being too close to me because…because…I don’t know why, but I know you’re afraid!”

Regina starts to answer – starts to tear into her – but stops herself. Taking a breath because it’s plain that Emma has chosen the inappropriate time of _now_ to try to crawl under her skin, she holds up her hand, forces a smile, and says, “I did give you a chance.” 

“What?” 

Regina is on her a moment later, shoving Emma back onto the bed (taking care to make sure that she’s not so rough as to endanger the baby), earning a loud squeal from the girl as they hit the mattress together. Before Emma can protest (and certainly before Regina herself can internalize where they currently are together), Regina pulls the blanket away from her, and starts to forcibly pull the thick wool trousers up and over her legs.

“What are you –“

“We. Have. Things. To. Do,” Regina reiterates as she continues to forcibly dress Emma. She allows herself the briefest moment of bemusement at the fact that she’s putting clothes on this girl instead of taking them off, and then brushes that entirely inappropriate thought away.  She quite clearly needs to seek out pleasures of her own once they get into port as well. 

“Stop! Let me…stop it!”

“Then dress yourself,” Regina growls, and shoves her away, any kind of amusement she might have had dissipating, replaced by pure irritation. “I don’t have time for your childishness!”

“I’m not a child,” Emma snaps back, standing up, wearing only the pants. She’s stunning like this, Regina thinks (and again scolds herself), all flowing blonde hair and cheeks pink with righteous indignant anger. Her rage is slightly undercut by the softness of her exposed breasts and the growing swell of her belly; there’s something magnificent in this furious display.

Not that Regina intends to surrender to it. No matter how alluring the contradictions in Emma continue to be. No matter how much she’s drawn to, and perhaps even turned on by the fire she occasionally sees in Emma. 

Regina turns in a dramatic circle, and then spins back. “Then stop acting like one. Start acting like a member of this crew! Which is what you’re supposed to be, in case you’ve forgotten!” 

“I haven’t forgotten anything! You’re the one who insists on treating me like I’m an idiot who can’t string together three consecutive thoughts without your assistance!” 

“Prove to me that you can! So far, all I see is –“ 

Another tap on the door stops whatever harsh cutting words she was about to spill out. 

She takes a deep breath, says to Emma, “Cover your chest,” and then to the door, “Come in.”

Hoping to hell that Emma actually listens for once and covers herself up.

Otherwise Smee _will_ likely put himself through the door this time.

“Captain,” Smee greets meekly. “Miss Swan." 

“Mr. Smee,” Regina nods, glancing back and observing that Emma has pulled on a white button-up shirt.

 _Her_ white button-up shirt, Regina notes with a scowl.

Which curiously earns her a lifted eyebrow from Emma.

Yet another challenge.

 _Interesting_.

“Mr. Smee,” Regina redirects. “What are we looking at?

He quickly puts a coastal map of the Enchanted Forest down on the table, intentionally ignoring the way his captain and the princess are glaring at each other. The same way he’s ignoring the fact that he recognizes the shirt Emma is wearing.

Some things, he knows, are better left unspoken of.

 

* * *

 

It’s hours later, and the _Jolly Roger_ is on her way to a coastal town on the far Southwestern edge of the kingdom. Many years ago, due to its distance from the center of the kingdom, it’d been a location which had been woefully underserviced by the crown; Regina is very much hoping that the same holds true now, and that they can finally take a moment to breathe.

Everyone needs it.

Including her.

In the meanwhile, though, there’s something she wants to see.

She holds up a cutlass and then tosses it across the deck to Emma.

Emma, who is dressed in tan trousers and _her_ white shirt – still.

The crew not currently working the ship – including Marian – stand around to watch, their faces mixtures of excitement and trepidation. Because every other time they’ve seen their captain face off with someone on this deck, it’s been followed either by a body being pushed into the water or if the victim is very lucky, his or her drunk ass being escorted down to the brig. 

Where they tend to stay for weeks on end.

Until Regina is satisfied with their punishment. Which can tend to take…a while.

But Regina is smirking now, not wearing the typical furious glare she tends to in these duels. 

Like maybe she sees that as a dance instead of a sword-fight.

Perhaps, it is. 

Or it’s both.

“Pick it up, Princess,” Regina suggests, her voice low and sultry. She flicks the tail of her leather coat, more show than need, but it gives her the flair and flourish she’s always enjoyed in games like this.

Looking more than a little anxious, Emma retrieves the cutlass, holding it up in front of her.

“You said Marian taught you?” Regina holds up a hand to silence a reply from Marian.

Pretending not to notice the disapproving look she’s getting from the insubordinate woman. 

“She did.”

“Well, then, let’s see what you’ve learned.”

She’s attacking at once, forcing Emma to defend herself, forcing her backwards.

Which, to Emma’s credit, at least for a few minutes, she’s able to stand up against Regina, managing to hold her own. 

But it’s not enough. 

Aggressively, Regina pushes forward, and finally, Emma stumbles against the rail, her blade falling from her hand and clinking against the deck. With the wind violently blowing her blonde hair away from her face, Regina leans inwards, the cutlass just inches away from Emma's throat.  “Is this all you’re ever going to be?” Regina taunts. “The little girl playing defense?”

“I’m trying!”

“Not hard enough! Your form is passable, but your footwork is too tentative, and your instincts are worthless. You wouldn’t last five minutes against someone actually trying to hurt you. You have to be willing to attack; you have to be aggressive and make the first move when necessary. You have to be willing to take control when everything is going wrong! You have to be willing to fight!"

“What do you want from me?” Emma asks, eyes wide, tears in them.

 Regina sneers in response, “Nothing you can offer me, _Princess_.”

She turns her back, walking away. 

Smirking when she hears the click of boots behind her. 

Tensing when she hears the scrape of metal off the deck. 

She turns right as Emma attacks, her own blade stopping Emma’s oncoming one, the two of them for a moment practically chest to chest as they hold their crossed blades in front of them.

“Better,” Regina nods, and then she’s stepping away, and tapping Emma’s blade. “Again.” 

They move around each other, then, their swords clashing repeatedly as they spar, their steps actually finding a rhythm that is almost sensual in how delicately in-sync they are. Exhilarated by the fire Emma is finally showing, Regina slightly turns her head back to her crew, back to Marian, and teases, “You know, you could have warned me that she was coming after me.”

Marian chuckles, “Why? That’s exactly what you wanted her to do.”

Turns out, that’s the wrong thing to say. 

“Wait? You did?” Emma asks in disbelief, her own blade pressing against Regina’s. 

“I was curious,” Regina admits with a shrug.

“So, you manipulated me,” Emma snaps.

Regina's brow furrows in confusion. “I motivated you.”

“No,” Emma answers with a shake of her head, suddenly stepping back and throwing the cutlass down to the deck. “You manipulated me. Just like my parents whom you loathe.” 

“You attempted to manipulate me the first day we met,” Regina reminds her.

 “To live! You’re manipulating me for sport!”

“Pick up your sword.”

“I will not.”

“Excuse me?” 

“After all this time – the last few month – it’s all still the same, isn’t? I’m still not even a person to you, am I? I’m just Snow White’s stupid little girl. A convenient toy for you to _fuck_ around with –“ she ignores the looks of surprise from the still-gathered crew, who had never heard her say anything close to a profane word – “Until you can decide which way you want to break it. Break _me_. You can dress up what I am here however you’d like, and you can pretend that you give a damn about me because my baby is Bae’s, but we both know that I mean nothing to you beyond this child. Underneath all the pretense of me being a member of this crew, the truth is, _Captain_ , I _am_ still just a somewhat useful political prisoner to you, and I’ll never be more than that. I guess you were right; I am defenseless against someone who actually wants to hurt me.”                                                                    

“You’re being ridiculous, Swan.” 

“And you’re every terrible thing I was ever told that you were.” 

“Emma, no,” Marian cautions, clocking the way Regina stiffens in reaction to Emma’s words. 

Regina waves her off, her eyes suddenly frighteningly dark, the hurt unmistakable if you know what you to look for. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Emma turns away from Regina, and looks at Marian, “Can I bunk with you?” 

“Oh, no, no absolutely not,” Regina cuts in, stepping forward, and placing herself between the two women. “I am still the captain of this ship. And your days of special treatment are over.” 

“Regina, it’s not a problem,” Marian insists, her voice lowering.

“It is. If she’s going to insist that she’s a prisoner, then she doesn’t belong with my crew at all.”

“Regina –“ 

“Mind your place,” she reminds Marian, then turns to Smee, “Take the girl to the brig.”

“Captain,” Smee protests. “She’s –“ 

“A prisoner. And as she said, I’m every bit as bad as the stories her insipid mother told her. I’m just an Evil Queen. Well fine, then my brig is where she belongs. Isn’t that right, _Princess_?”

“I suppose so, _Your Majesty_.”

“You know what? You’re right, too: you are just a stupid, stupid girl.” 

“At least you’re finally being honest about how you see me and how you will always see me.” 

Regina flicks her hand, her eyes impossibly dark. “Take her away, Mr. Smee.” Livid at his continued reluctance, she snaps, “Do it or you can join her; there’s no mercy for traitors here.”

“Aye, Captain.” Swallowing, Smee steps forward, a hand settling on Emma’s back. She doesn’t give him the chance to lead, instead stomps away, past a line of shell-shocked pirates.

Who all seem to be wondering when their already melodramatic lives had become a soap opera. 

“Captain, a word?” Marian requests, stepping close to Regina, but not daring to touch her. 

Not when she’s like this, the anger practically rolling off of her in violent waves.

“Not this time,” Regina replies, and then turns and heads towards the helm – her hand flat against her stomach, her eyes right ahead, her back straight as a board – all the while wondering why she feels as upset and hurt about all of this as she does. 

Deciding that it doesn’t matter.

The girl doesn’t matter. 

And when they get to shore, she’s going to cast her off, and leave her behind when they set sail again.

Let her go home and deal with her wretched parents herself.

Regina doesn’t want revenge, anymore.

Not against Snow and David, and not against their precious little girl. 

She tells herself she doesn’t actually need more than what she has. Just the blue water, this fast powerful ship and her impressive crew. 

To hell with Snow White and her terribly perfect family.

To hell with them all.

 

* * *

 

Marian, never one to actually mind her place, joins her by the railing an hour later (she’d driven her helmsman just about halfway to mad with her pacing before finally making her way down to the edge), her fingers gripping against the painted wood as she stares out. 

“Don’t start,” Regina warns, not even turning to look at her second mate.

“I brought whiskey.” Marian holds up a flask.

“And I’m sure a plea on behalf of the girl,” Regina notes, taking a hefty swig. 

“Mostly on behalf of the crew. Don’t let old frustrations allow you to alienate them. As frustrated as you are about what you lost a very long time ago, what you have now...matters more."

“I know,” Regina allows softly. She turns to face Marian. “I understand why you’re here on behalf of Smee, but why the girl? Why advocate on her behalf? She’s a burden and –“ 

“Because she’s more than just a girl, and I think you know it.”

Regina’s eyebrow arches in challenge, daring Marian to elaborate.

Wisely, she chooses not to take the dare. “As for being a burden, well, she very well might be, but both you and I have been that in our lives, as well. And we knew it as much as she does.”

“This isn’t about you or me.”

“Okay, then what is it about? Why do you keep pushing her so hard, Regina?”

 “She’s Snow White’s daughter.”

“She is. And you’re Cora Mills’ daughter.”

 “You didn’t know my mother.”

“Only by reputation and legend,” Marian admits. “But I know that you’re not her. Or your stories. Despite what Snow White or anyone else - including you - sometimes thinks."

“The _Princess_ thinks otherwise.”

“The _Princess_ was defending herself. Which I believe is what you’ve been pushing her to do.”

“Not against me,” Regina retorts.

Marian smiles slightly at that. “We’ve been working together for twenty years, Regina. I like to think that over that time, we’ve become something like…friends.”

Regina dips her head in acceptance, then says, “Your point?” 

“My point is, I know you, and I know when you’re interested in someone.”

Oh, so apparently she’s taking the dare, after all.

Regina’s eyes flare darkly. “You’re not suggesting –“

“Maybe. Maybe not. But one way or another, Emma intrigues you. And infuriates you. In a way no one has before. Maybe ever. I think it’s making you choose to close yourself off.” 

“That’s absurd! What would you have me do? She disrespected me in front of –“

“Talk to her,” Marian says softly. “The reasons you kept her aboard haven’t changed.”

“Revenge?”

Marian reaches out and squeezes her wrist. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself but just because she’s using that to hurt you – after you hurt her – doesn’t make it the truth. You have changed, Regina; you're not that person, anymore. You're not _her_."

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?” 

“You seem to have a fondness for people like me,” Marian reminds her.

Earning her only a grunt in response as Regina stares back out at the water. 

Finally, quietly, “I think she needs to go.”

“You’ll regret it if you send her away,” Marian promises. 

“I regret a lot of things,” Regina sighs, once again looking at her. “I’m not sure cutting Snow White’s obnoxious daughter out of my life is ever going to be something I’ll cry about.”

“You’ll regret it,” Marian says again.

“Enough,” Regina answers. “ _Enough_. If it will make you happy, I’ll go see the girl. See if she has anything more to offer than her little show from earlier. If not, we leave her behind at port.”

“I support whatever choice you make,” Marian assures her. “So does the rest of the crew.”

Regina turns her head slightly, genuine worry shining in her eyes. “Is that actually true?”

“They like Emma. I like Emma. A lot, actually. But you’re…you’re our Captain. Even when you’re volatile and lashing out. We know you, and we trust you to protect us when it matters most. We stand with you, Regina because  _you_ are part of  _our_ family above all else.”

A dozen emotions including relief flooding through her, Regina nods her head slowly, almost jerkily; after all this time, acceptance and belonging is still what she craves the most. “All right, then.”

 

* * *

 

Emma doesn’t stand when Regina arrives at the door to the brig. Instead, without looking up, she says, “Did you come to apologize?” 

Regina laughs. “Where did you get this bravado from, Princess? This…disrespectful arrogance.” 

“I learned it from you,” Emma answers icily.

“Hardly. The judgmental edge is definitely from your twit of a mother.”

“Whatever. What do you plan to do with me?”

“What do you want me to do with you?” Regina counters. 

“Does it matter what I want?” 

“Not particularly.”

“Didn’t think so,” Emma answers sullenly, staring at the wall.

“But in this case,” Regina tries again, gritting her teeth. “I’m willing to hear you out.” 

“Fine. Then just send me back.” 

“To your parents?” 

“Yes. At least with them, I always know what to expect. I know how they feel about me.”

“You have no idea what I feel – or think - about you.” 

“Don’t I?” Emma asks, looking right at her. “You think I’m nothing more than a witless child. You look at me and you see my mother. You look at me and you see weakness. You see… _nothing_.” 

Regina steps closer, her hand curling around one of the bars of the cell, fingers pressing into the metal hard enough to whiten her knuckles. When she speaks, her voice is low, intense and throaty. “What does it matter what I see you as?"

"It matters."

"That's your problem; always letting others define you. Always allowing the expectations of others to guide you."

"You're one to talk," Emma shoots back. "Anyway, it's all pointless. I thought I could be someone else, but now I know better. Now, I know that no matter what I try to be, or who I try to be, I will always be…just Snow White's daughter. So if my opinion matters at all to you, I want to go back to the castle. Back to my parents. It’s where I belong. It’s where I’m supposed to be.”

“And your son? Bae’s son?”

“My son will grow up with everything he could ever want.”

“Except freedom."

Emma’s blue-green eyes meet hers, turbulent and wounded. “There’s no such thing.”

“No, there isn’t,” Regina agrees bitterly, stepping back. “Enjoy your last night aboard, Miss Swan.”

Emma’s eyes close, and then she turns away, her hand over her belly, rubbing gently. 

Tears spilling down her cheeks, her head dips, and she cries softly, as quietly as she can.

Somehow still intent on finding the strength she doesn’t actually believe she has.

Regina watches for as long as she can bear to, and then she slowly turns away and leaves.

Wondering why this feels like it hurts. 

Wondering if Marian is right.

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t sleep.

Which is silly because she was once the Evil Queen, and her life has been turned upside down a thousand different ways over her many years of life; Princess Emma doesn’t even count, right?

Only she does, and Regina feels disappointment and dread and…sadness, and it’s stupid.It’s all very stupid.

She tosses and turns in her bed, and grunts angrily, failing to fall asleep…again. 

Come morning, this will all be over, she tells herself. They’ll drop the Princess off, and forget that she was ever here. 

It’s a good lie (and despite what Marian believes, Regina thinks that maybe if you tell yourself a lie enough, it can become the truth), and as Regina tells herself it over and over, she finally manages to tumble into nothingness.

She tells herself it even as she dreams of soft touches and softer whimpers.

And when she wakes a few hours later, confused and disorientated and with Emma’s name resting on her lips, her fingers chasing the whispered sound as she stares into the cool dark loneliness of her cabin, she continues telling herself it.


	3. Three.

Regina eats alone in the morning, trying not to think about the chaos churning around her.

Trying not think about a young girl on a horse, and the boy whom she had loved and dreamt of starting a life with, his own life extinguished in the space of a broken heartbeat. Doing everything she can not to think about the mother who had heard her pleas for freedom and hope, and refused them, instead forcing forward her own design for Regina. 

She tries not to think about a different girl, and Marian saying, “You’re interested.” 

Because well, maybe she is, but she thinks she’s learned a lifetime of lessons about dreams. 

She’s a different woman now, and she knows that dreams are the domain of children.

That girl had become an unwilling wife, and then an angry queen and now she’s this.

Whatever _this_ is.

Outside the cabin, she hears Smee yell out a warning as the shoreline is sighted. 

She stands up, steels herself, and heads out to the deck. 

Ready to snuff out a dream of something more before it can become a hope.

After all, while the death of a dream is indeed terrible, there’s truly nothing more horrible than the bitter realization that the hope you’ve created within you is an empty one.

 

* * *

 

Booker, the Sailing Master, loses the draw this time and is the one assigned to stay behind and oversee the necessary repairs; they believe that the majority of them can be completed in one afternoon, and supplies can be gathered to handle the other repairs, which they can finish up while at sea. He accuses Marian of cheating, and she winks at him, which is probably a confirmation.

Forcing back a fierce desire to cry, Emma says her goodbyes to the crew, all while looking at Regina, daring her to make her stop. 

Regina just stares back at her, though, unwilling to take the bait. 

Focused on this being over. Focused on getting Snow White’s daughter out of her life. 

No matter how much a part of her would very much prefer the opposite. 

She steps towards Emma, a bag over her shoulder, and says, “Let’s get this over with, Princess.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” Marian asks.

“No, best not to move in a group,” Regina replies, adjusting the saddlebag. “This town is hopefully not occupied by Snow’s men, but just in case they are here, I’d rather not draw attention, if we can help it. You take care of restocking supplies; I’ll leave the Princess at the first tavern I come across and be done with her.”

“The Princess is right here,” Emma reminds her, once again dressed in a peasant’s cloak.

Regina rolls her eyes, and then with great flourish, gestures for Emma to step in front of her. “I would very much like to get you permanently out of my life, Miss Swan, so get moving.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Emma huffs, and then strides forward, not looking back at Regina.

“Not the first tavern, right?” Smee asks, voice low and worried.

“I’m not going to leave her at a brothel, Mr. Smee,” Regina huffs in exasperation. 

“Of course, I mean…I knew that.” And then he’s hustling off as well.

“You’re going to miss her,” Marian says, the tone mild, but the implication far from it. 

“I very much doubt that,” Regina shoots back. “Booker, don’t break anything on my ship.”

Booker snorts in amusement, mock salutes, and then turns his attention back to others. 

Regina wonders when she’d gotten so easy-going as to allow such casual respect for her. 

But then her eyes are finding Emma, standing just on the edge of the _Jolly Roger_ , looking between the dock ahead, and the water behind her, and she remembers her immediate focus.

Getting rid of Emma once and for all. 

And then forgetting all about her.

Emma’s eyes find hers, big and frightened, and Regina knows that she never will.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost evening, and she’s tired of jumping taverns looking for a suitable one to leave the princess in, but one step into this one, and she knows it’s the end of the line.

Just perhaps not the one they’d been hoping for. 

For her part, Emma hasn’t said a word to her since they’d broken off from the rest of the group. Instead, she has sullenly stomped ahead like the irritating witless child that she is. Watching her, Regina reminds herself that Emma had chosen this path, so it’s nonsensical and even somewhat frustrating how upset Emma seems to be about what’s happening now. 

Stepping inside the doorway of the tavern, Regina pulls away from her observations of Emma’s mood to size up the clientele milling around in here; much to her dismay, since this seems to be the only semi-decent drinking hole in this dark and dungy little forest-and-ocean adjacent town, it appears to be swarming with out of uniform soldiers from Snow White’s Royal Guard. 

After over a decade of being the Queen herself, Regina knows how to spot a soldier. 

“Not good,” she mutters, looking around for an easy way to back out of the tavern. 

On the other hand, she supposes she could just shove Emma in there, and hope all of the attention will fall to her long enough to give Regina an opening to escape unnoticed. True, everyone knows who Emma had disappeared with so their eyes will slide to her, but... 

“We’ve been seen,” Emma notes, her hand once again falling protectively over her belly.

“We have,” Regina confirms. “I believe that this is where we part, Princess.”

“Oh,” Emma says softly, and it’s not at all the response Regina had been expecting. She turns to look at Emma, and notices that she’s staring over at one of the men – a tall strapping blonde man with massive shoulders and abundant facial hair. Regina squints her eyes to see if she recognizes him, but two decades have passed since she knew any of these men, so it’s highly unlikely that any of the soldiers in this tavern served her or fought against her. 

“Is there a problem?” Regina queries, tucking slightly closer so they can keep their voices low. 

“No…no problem, Your Majesty.”

“Princess.” 

Emma turns and looks at her. “Could you have ever called me Emma?”

“What?” 

“Princess or Miss Swan, that's what you always call me. Anything except my actual name. Could that have ever changed?” 

“I think we have rather abundantly proven our lack of compatibility,” Regina answers stiffly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Why does it matter?” 

Just as the words leave her mouth, the guardsman turns and looks over, eyes falling on Emma. 

“Because that man over there is Commander Lucian LeCroy; my betrothed.” 

“Your what?” Regina asks. Then shakes her head, because Emma’s words had been clear enough, and she more than most understands forced marriage. “You never mentioned –“ 

“I had very much hoped to never see him ever again. Right now, I guess I’m just trying to figure out if a life with someone who loathes my very existence as much as you do is better or worse than one with him as my husband,” Emma replies as the man starts walking towards them. Two of his leather-clad buddies flank to his side, seeming to recognize both Emma and Regina at the very same time.

Choosing to ignore the part about loathing her (because that's very much not the case, and isn't that half of the problem?), Regina hisses, “Did he hurt you?” There’s something low in her voice and dangerous in her body language as she settles a hand over the hilt of her cutlass. She knows better, knows that she really should just step back and leave Emma to these men; after all, Emma might hate LeCroy, but if he’s her betrothed, he’s certain to bring her home to her parents, just as Emma had wanted. And yet –

“He’s a war hero,” Emma answers dully.

“Which war?” Regina sneers, lip curling into a snarl, fingers clenching around the hilt. 

“The one for peace at all costs,” Emma answers darkly, and then takes a step back.

“Emma!” LeCroy calls out to her from across the bar, a smile mixed with something far more dangerous and deadly on his lips as his gaze flickers from Emma over to Regina. He steps closer, his voice lowering dangerously as he stares right at Regina while speaking to Emma. “We’ve all been so worried about you, but don’t fret, sweetheart; I’m going to rescue you from her.” 

“Did he hurt you?” Regina tersely whispers again, ready to draw based upon Emma’s response. 

“I’m supposed to be his wife,” is Emma’s nearly emotionless response, and it’s both nonsensical and painfully lucid at the same time. Whatever it is or isn’t, though, it’s more than enough for Regina, and with one hand settling light on Emma’s wrist, and a heavy sense of disquieting déjà vu hitting her, Regina spins herself in front of Emma, her sword drawn. 

“Lucian, is it, dear?” she requests as she takes off the saddlebag she’d slung over her shoulder while on the ship and sets it down on the ground, nudging it back towards Emma with her foot. 

He pulls up short, amazed that this woman would dare to speak to him. “The Evil Queen.”

“I go by a different title these days, but if that’s the one you need to use to remind yourself that I don’t allow what’s mine to be taken from me, then by all means, Lucian, remind yourself.”

“Yours,” he repeats, and then he looks at Emma and notices the rounding in front of her. He tilts his head in confusion. “You’re pregnant.” Then looks at Regina. “What did you do, Witch?” 

“Something you clearly couldn’t,” Regina retorts, earning a soft gasp of surprise from Emma.

“Bitch, I’m going to rip you to pieces,” he growls. 

“Bitch or Witch? Which is it?” She shrugs. “Either one, you’re welcome to… _try_.”

Her sword flicks out, then, cutting him across the face; getting out of here is going to be difficult so causing chaos and confusion will be key. The first step is his indignant rage, and once there’s blood dripping down his face, she sees the tell-tale signs of a man not accustomed to being challenged by anyone save Snow, who likely routinely turns a blind eye to his awful actions.

Unfortunately, Regina understands doing such a thing entirely too well, but she also knows that such dire allowances had been bred of the need for control at all costs. Almost against her will, Regina finds herself mourning the idealistic girl Snow had once been, the one who had insisted on always doing the right thing no matter the potential personal loss. It would seem that fear and paranoia have clearly won out in more than one way, and this situation here is the result.

Those are thoughts for another time – one when she’s not about to have to fight her way out of a tavern.

With the pregnant princess once again on her arm. 

She sighs, laughs and then strikes out with her sword at the same time that LeCroy retaliates for her strikes across his face, their blades loudly clanking together and oh, there’s the chaos she’s been looking for. Loud voices and yelling and LeCroy demanding that poor violated Emma come to his side at once while at the same time promising Regina a terrible ignoble death for her. 

His men stay back, assuming their commander will win, too cocky to interfere and assist him. 

They go step for step, aggressively and violently, each scoring strikes before pulling back. At one point, Emma starts to move forward, as if to help, but Regina tightens her hold on her wrist. 

Trying to tell her to stay back, and stay safe.

She feels rather than sees the way Emma shakes her head in protest.

And wants to tell Emma that this is very much not the time for her to decide to fight. 

“I’m going to watch you hang,” LeCroy tells her, ignorant of the communication which is occurring between the two women. “Like a common thief, a worthless whore. Or maybe, I’ll watch you burn like the witch you are. Either way, it’s going to be quite the spectacle.”

“Perhaps, but you won’t be alive for it,” Regina retorts and draws blood against his arm. 

“You might not be, either,” LeCroy answers, charging forward, and quickly delivering a strike to her left hip before she can put her own blade up in defense. She hisses, glancing down and noticing that the bastard has managed to slice an inch-long gash into the fine leather of her duster. It's the first of his cuts to actually connect, and she's more than a little pissed off about it.

They clash again, the sounds of their swords almost in tune with the shouts around them.

But it’s going on too long, and her side is starting to ache.

That, and LeCroy is getting anxious; so his men are likely to get involved soon.

Taking all of this in, Regina tilts her head back, “Miss Swan, left front pocket of my coat.”

Thankfully, over two months on the water with pirates who often need to move quicker than is reasonable has taught Emma not to question an order, and so immediately, her free hand is reaching forward and around Regina (and Regina deliberately ignores the strange flutter in the middle of her when Emma’s arm circles her, and her face draws entirely too close to her, a soft puff of breath ghosting over her skin) and dips her fingers into Regina’s pocket. She finds a small leather pouch in there, and without being told what to do, knows that this their exit.

“Some color,” Emma notes, echoing something she’s heard Smee say several times now, and then she’s opening the pouch and tossing the explosive dust around into the air, squealing when it immediately burst into a hundred tiny, but very loud and very bright firecrackers.

“You weren’t supposed to use all of it,” Regina hisses through the smoke as she reaches down with one hand and grabs the saddlebag, and then with the other one, yanks Emma by the wrist, pulling her through a clutch of coughing men, fleeing into the cold night air.

“But we’re away from them,” Emma replies, sounding terribly, almost frighteningly urgent.

There’s clearly more to the story of her and Lucian LeCroy than she is saying.

For now, though, getting clear of this tavern and Snow’s Royal Guard is the most important priority; perhaps there will be time for dark tales later. Regina nods her head, a sign that she doesn’t intend to argue with Emma at the moment, and then she says, “To the ship.”

 

* * *

 

They run back down to the docks, Regina’s sword drawn in case of another fight, but when they get there, what they see is the _Jolly Roger_ sailing away from where a dozen guards are, all of them looking like they’re hoping to stage a mass execution of pirates.

“Fuck,” Regina growls, and then she’s spinning Emma around, their faces inches from each other. “They’re going to search every inch of this town trying to find us; the _Jolly Roger_ won’t return until it’s safe to do so. We need a place to hide in the meanwhile.”

“We?” Emma queries, head tilted in confusion. “Aren’t you just going to leave me?”

“Will that man hurt you?” Regina asks her, a slightly different question than the one she’d asked before, but perhaps even more important. As she speaks, her hand settles lightly over her side to push against a searing pain she feels there; it occurs to her that LeCroy’s blade may have cut deeper than she’d thought. She knows that she should check it out and see if there's blood (there most certainly is) and how bad the wound is, but she fears that doing so right now might unnecessarily alarm Emma.

And she needs Emma’s wits about her at the moment; she needs Emma to find that steel again. 

The steel which has allowed her to stand up to Regina on numerous occasions.

“Yes,” Emma answers softly, recognizing the difference in Regina’s question.

“Then I’m not leaving you or your child behind,” Regina replies, and then shakes her head to cut off any further argument from Emma. “We have to go. Quickly. Towards the Green Forest.” 

The forest so-named because of how often it rains here, and how incredibly green everything is. 

She thinks it helpful how much she remembers of the old geography of this realm.

“But –“ Emma starts to protest, both hands on her belly now, clearly terrified.

“Emma,” Regina says softly, and it’s a direct response to Emma’s question from before. “I know that we have had our issues with each other and we still do, but I need you to trust me right –“

“I do trust you,” Emma cuts in, nodding her head urgently. “I’m just –“

“Afraid.” 

“I know you think less of me for that –“ 

“For being afraid of a vile man you’re being forced by your mother to marry against your will? Never.” Regina steps forward and places a hand on both sides of Emma's face, holding it there and making Emma look at her. “I promised that I won’t let anything happen to you or your son, and I intend to keep that promise."

“Because of Bae?” 

“Because I’m promising _you_ , Emma,” Regina corrects, her dark eyes so intense.

So full of… _something_. 

For _her_ , Emma realizes with a bit of a shock. 

"I don't understand you," Emma tells her.

It's the wrong thing to say, because then Regina is pulling back, leaving Emma feeling oddly like she misses the contact.

"Regardless," Regina notes. "We need to go."

And then clutching Emma's hand again, that feeling of déjà vu once again hitting her, she leads her towards the forest.

 

* * *

 

The rain is coming down in sheets by the time they’re deep in the middle of the forest – deep enough where she believes that Snow’s men will struggle to find them. Aside from the apparent war hero that LeCroy is, the rest of these men are not finely trained soldiers, their instincts dulled by lack of meaningful conflict. There are consequences to ordered peace, as well.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to know this, but I don’t believe these are the best of my mother’s men. There are ones who are far better trained spread throughout the kingdom,” Emma tells her as they move through rows of trees, searching for a series of caves that Regina vaguely remembers being here. “Most of the men who serve my parents are slow and dull, mostly there for ceremony; but there are others like Lucian. Officially Guardsmen or Knights, but unofficially –“ 

“Secret police?” Regina queries, swiping branches away with her cutlass. She winces as she moves too quickly, feeling the sharp pulling on her side, and knowing she’ll need to look at it soon. Once they’re in one of the caves, she tells herself, patting her saddlebag.

She’d brought it for Emma – a few days’ worth of food and supplies, and a little bit of gold dust to use to barter with. Enough to ensure that she could survive long enough to get home.

Now, that’s not happening, and it looks like they will be the ones needing the supplies.

Her, perhaps, more than Emma, she thinks grimly as her side pulls again.

“Yes,” Emma agrees. “I’ve heard my parents talking about how they’re around to ensure that peace is achieved no matter the cost. I always assumed that’s just…the way of things.” 

“Well, they called me a tyrant for it,” Regina states. “Your parents just use silkier words.”

“The people love them,” Emma answers dully, a trained fidelity in her voice.

“The people by now know better than not to,” Regina counters. “When I was the Queen, they had your mother and the fairies to scream their complaints through. They wanted the end of my reign of terror, and they got it. I was stopped, and chased away, but in my place, it seems they set up a rule of law so absolute in both narrative and consequence…well, it’s impressive.”

“Impressive?”

“The old me would have been envious,” Regina admits, then points over towards a clutch of trees, which is just barely hiding the rocky entrance to a series of tiny caves. “There they are.” 

“Won’t they flood?” Emma asks, glancing up at the sky, and then brushing rainwater away from her eyes. They’re both well drenched, protected only by their outer garments. 

“Eventually. If this storm gets worse. But for now, we’ll be fine,” Regina replies, tucking her hand in closer to her side, the searing pain there becoming worse. For the last few minutes or so, her vision has been getting hazy, which bodes poorly for them.

She takes one step forward, then another, and then sags.

“You’re hurt,” Emma notes, an arm reaching out to offer support. “How…when –“

“It’s nothing; just a graze,” Regina insists, pulling away and forcing herself back up. 

“You’re clearly in pain,” Emma protests, sounding angry that Regina’s pretending otherwise.

“You’re speaking,” Regina retorts. “That’s quite painful for me.”

And that does the trick, forcing Emma away from her. “Why are you always so cruel to me?”

“If that were true, I would have left you with that man.”

“Maybe we should go back.”

Regina looks at her in disbelief. “Is that truly the life you want for yourself? A pretty wife walked around on the arm of a pompous man, expected to smile and give him children while he's off...enjoying himself?”

“No,” she admits. “But this isn’t about me, it’s about you. You’re hurt; you need help.”

“While I appreciate your…puzzling desire to care for me –“

“It’s not puzzling,” Emma says softly, her voice barely a whisper.

Regina frowns at that, but chooses not to pursue it, instead saying, “If we go back, the only help I’ll get from your kingdom will involve me dangling at the end of a rope…or have you forgotten that you parents hate me as much as I hate them, and that I have no magic to protect myself?” She tilts her head. “Unless that’s what you would prefer to see happen here?” 

Emma ignores the obvious bait, which is commendable, Regina thinks, and again muses on just how much this girl continues to surprise her. But then Emma says, “I would speak for you.”

“Which would be useless. Since you're unaware thanks to your parents mostly sheltering you, let me be educate you about how things go in reigns in which the monarchs utilize secret police. This won’t be like the last time I was in their custody, because it seems clear that Snow White isn’t who she once was. No, this Snow will need to make a statement about her strength loud enough for the whole kingdom to hear. First, to add to the rest of my crimes, I’ll be accused of kidnapping and I'm sure a few more tasteless things related to you. Your mother will judge me guilty, foregoing a trial. Afterwards, I’ll be tortured – likely whipped. When that’s over, they will parade me around like a macabre trophy and then finally, in order to make it clear that Good has finally defeated Evil, they will execute me in a grand display.” She snorts derisively, finding savage satisfaction in the horror painted across Emma’s beautiful face. “Do you really think that your opinion about me would mean enough to change any of that?” 

“No,” Emma says softly, unable to hide just how stricken she is by Regina's blunt words. “I don’t think that my opinion about anything means anything to either her or you. After all, I know nothing because I'm just a stupid, stupid girl." She turns away from Regina, taking two steps towards the entrance of the cave.

It should be easy to just let her walk away, the emotional distance between them where it should be, and yet Regina finds herself very much not wanting to do that. Very much upset that Emma is hurt once again, and she’d been the one to cause it. “Princess, wait; I’m –“

That’s when everything starts spinning; that’s when the hours and miles since being injured catch up with her, and the blacks and grays around the edges of her vision suddenly crash in.

She hears Emma yell her name right as her knees buckle violently.

Inexplicably, after the harm she's done, she feels arms under her, and then the softness of hands against her face.

And she hears, “No, no, no, you don’t; you don’t get to leave me, Regina. _No_.”

Emma’s kind eyes find hers, so honestly worried and afraid. For _her_.

Through blurry confused vision, Regina lifts a hand up, fingers grazing across Emma’s cheek.

She gasps, “Emma.” 

The world spins away from her. 

As it so often seems to do.

 

* * *

 

When it spins back to her, and everything settles again, she opens her eyes to find that she’s on the floor of a cave, her previously wet coat and shirt stripped off, and her midriff exposed to what should be the icy cold air of the cavern. Only there’s an incredibly well-built fire snapping a few feet away from her, the intense warmth of it seeping into her otherwise waterlogged bones.

“There you are,” Emma murmurs, settling down next to her, the open saddlebag at her feet.

“What happened?” Regina asks, trying to sit up, and immediately faltering. A shot of pain so intense as to almost be momentarily paralyzing rockets its way through her shuddering form. 

“Easy,” Emma cautions, a hand settling on Regina’s shoulder. “Your side has been split open.” 

“Split –“ Regina looks down, seeing not an open wound, but what looks like…a stitched up one?

“We were lucky,” Emma explains, smiling slightly at Regina’s confusion. “Your Go-Away bag had a lot of interesting things in it including a needle and thread and a couple of bandages.”

“It’s a Go-Bag, and you’re angry.”

“You should have told me you were hurt."

“That’s what you’re angry about?” 

“No, not just that. The stupid bag, too. Call it what you want, but you wanted me to go away.”

It’s an entirely inappropriate thought, and Regina blames it on how much pain she’s in and the infection she probably has and thus the subsequent fever, but she thinks Emma looks rather adorable pissed off.

“You’re the one who asked to leave,” she corrects, because this argument is safer than _that_ thought.

“Because you never wanted me there to begin with.”

“You're not...you're not a stupid girl - you're so much more than that - but you have to know that you don’t belong on a pirate ship. Not with people like _me_ there,” Regina replies, wincing as Emma leans over to check the wound again, gently biting her lip as she inspects it (and isn't that quite the alluring visual?). Her fingers are careful, even kind as she probes around the edges of it

Emma’s eyes, so full of emotion, find hers. “It’s the only place I’ve ever felt like I did belong.” 

She doesn’t give Regina a chance to respond, just stands up and moves away from her.

Leaving Regina to stare at Emma’s back until her eyes grow heavy once more.

 

* * *

 

It’s many hours later when Emma, who is bent over the makeshift pit working at keeping the flames burning, hears Regina say softly, her voice edged with agonized exhaustion, “I wouldn’t have thought that you’d know how to build a fire.”

It’s only because she can tell that Regina is in intense pain that Emma doesn’t take offense to yet another implication of her softness and snap back. Instead, smiling fondly, she says, “My friend Pinocchio showed me how to do it. He was my best friend growing up.”

“You had feelings for him?” Regina asks, pushing herself up ever so slightly before falling back.

“No,” Emma laughs, mock shuddering at the thought as she comes over to Regina and kneels down beside her, gently pushing Regina back so she’s flat on the ground, and then touching her side gently to check the wound. “Pinocchio was always more like the obnoxious always-in-my-business older brother I never had,” she continues. “He was always there. Until he went to apprentice with his father away from the castle, and…well, he’s been gone awhile. I miss him.”

“We lose more than we gain,” Regina murmurs heavily, thinking about Bae and how that description once fit him.

“I hope that’s not true,” Emma replies. Frowning deeply, she lifts her hand and settles it over Regina’s forehead, a spot of coolness amongst too much heat. “I stopped the bleeding, but I don’t think I was able to stop the infection. You’re burning up.” 

“I’ll be fine; I’m always fine,” Regina assures her, then reaches up and pulls Emma’s hand away from her forehead, but doesn’t let it go. Every word she says is a struggle, but this is hardly her first fever. “You have gifted hands. Did Marian teach you?” 

“A little,” Emma says, her other hand moving to her belly. The baby is clearly anxious given the way he’s moving around, but she’s not in pain so much as discomfort, and she decides that means he’s okay. “Granny, too. She and my mother tend to disagree about me."

“Let me guess: Granny thinks you should know how to survive in case things go bad again as they always do, but your mother isn’t willing to accept that as a possibility?” 

“That about sums it up. I think Mother believes they’ve failed if the potential for a threat exists.”

“As reality challenged as ever,” Regina manages. Her eyes go to Emma’s stomach. “The baby?”

“He’s all right,” Emma insists. She holds up a water skin, freshly refilled, as well as the dry biscuits that had been carefully packaged for Emma in the saddlebag. “You need to eat.”

Surprisingly, Regina doesn’t argue, accepting the water, and then the biscuits. She doesn’t eat much, just mostly nibbles at one, but it’s still better than nothing, Emma reasons. 

When the silence becomes too much for her, Emma tries to start another conversation with, “Granny told me that you changed her; that your feud made her someone different.” She says as she returns to inspecting Regina’s wound, her eyes narrowing as she traces the delicate stitches, trying to make sure that the gash is still closed.

“Snow?” Regina asks. Off Emma’s nod, Regina says, “I probably did. And not for the better.” Her eyes close as she breathes through a wash of pain. Finally, “I was angry, and I hated everything around me. I thought if I removed your mother from my life, or at least made her life as terrible as mine, I would finally be better.”

“Did that ever work?"

“She won,” Regina answers dryly. 

“I don’t know a lot,” Emma admits as she starts layering bandages over the wound. “But I think the stories I’ve been told about who my mother was before…this doesn’t feel like winning.” 

“No,” Regina agrees. “For the longest time, she was the girl who refused to give up hope to the point where even that word made me want to scream in frustration because it seemed impossible to me that after everything, she could still have it. I kept pushing and she kept hoping, and eventually, something finally just broke. I suppose, in the end, we both surrendered to anger.”

“Have you found your way back?”

Regina chuckles at that. “You really think it’s that easy, don’t you, Princess?”

“Emma. Please.” She smiles slightly. “My name is the least you can do after I’ve cared for you.” 

Regina’s eyebrow lifts in challenge. “Cared for me? Do you now?”

Emma blushes, far deeper than she should considering the obvious teasing intent behind Regina’s words. “I meant looked after your injury, of course; you’re a terrible bully and –“ 

“What you consider bullying, I consider pushing you to be the best of yourself.”

“Is that what you considered your pushing of my mother to be as well?”

Regina flinches slightly at that, the impact of Emma’s words harsh and true. “No,” she admits. “I wanted to destroy your mother. I wanted her to hurt like I did. You…that’s not what I want.”

Emma rocks back on her heels. “You…don’t?”

“Have I ever told you about my father?”

Emma blinks at the abrupt change in conversational directional. “N…no?”

“I loved him, Emma. Aside from my first love, Daniel, he was probably the only other person in my life who cared for me as much as I cared for them. He didn’t always protect me as much as a father should have, though, and I think –“ she breaks off into a sharp pained cough as the air catches in her lungs. Her vision swims for a few seconds, and everything is just painfully hot.

“Easy,” she hears Emma say, her gentle hands on her. One rubs lightly at her back while the other lifts to her forehead. When her vision finally clears and it’s plain that she’s at least somewhat back in balance, Emma rewards Regina with a bright beaming smile of relief.

“I like it when you do that,” Regina murmurs, her hand lifting for a moment before falling back. 

“Do…what?” Emma blinks, and yeah, she’s blushing deeply again, uncertain and confused. 

“My father,” Regina pushes forward, and Emma’s starting to realize that she’s not going to get any answers that make a whole lot of sense. Perhaps, then, the secret is just to listen and try to hear what she’s being told and maybe use that to help her understand.

Which seems silly, and yet…Emma finds that she desperately wants to understand Regina. 

Desperately needs to, even, and she’s starting to realize that this adventure that she’s been on – no matter how it ends – is going to have more repercussions than just a newborn child.

“I think I started to resent him for not protecting me. For letting me fall into the darkness.” 

“Is that why you killed him?” 

“I killed him because I thought the only way to happiness was through death and despair. I believed that the only way I could be happy was if someone else paid the price for it.”

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.” 

Regina’s eyes – red and tired and practically drooping – find Emma’s. “Because that’s your mother now; she’s become who I was on the day I killed the person I loved the most.”

“My mother would never hurt me.”

“She’s marrying you off to a man whom you believe would. A man you're desperately afraid of." 

Emma looks away, unable to argue that. Finally, quietly devastated, “Is this part of your revenge? Twisting me against my mother?"

“No,” Regina insists. “I don’t want revenge, anymore, Emma. Most certainly not on you.” 

“Then what is it that you do want?” 

“Kind eyes and soft hands when I wake up.” 

“You’re not making any sense.” 

“I loved my father. He loved me. I miss him so much. Sometimes, we destroy the ones we love the most before fear and hatred drive us into madness. But the love is still there, Princess.”

Emma blinks in confusion. “Are you defending my mother? I don’t…I don’t understand you.”

The only answer she gets is a soft whimper as Regina loses her battle with consciousness. It’s abrupt enough to alarm Emma…that is until she feels the rise and fall of Regina’s chest. It’s labored, and the former queen is clearly in agony, but her heart is still beating.

Emma turns her head, gazing towards the entrance of the cave where she can see the water pouring down; surely, somewhere beyond it, soldiers are scouring the forest, looking for them. Looking to bring their princess home to her mother and the Evil Queen back to Snow White. Strangely, both thoughts fill her with enough dread to make her son stir anxiously within her.

She pats her stomach and murmurs, “Well, then, I guess we just won’t let that happen.”

 

* * *

 

By morning, Emma knows two things for sure: one, they have maybe one more night in this cave before they will have to find other shelter or risk drowning; and two, Regina isn’t going to survive this experience no matter the shelter unless her crew finds her by nightfall. She’s hot to the touch, and the wound doesn’t look good even to Emma’s only slightly trained eyes.

She remembers hearing stories about how LeCroy seldom, if ever, loses a duel because his blade is always touched with something special; she’d assumed that to be bravado and folk lore gone mad in a world where everything seems to be about how big a story you can tell, but perhaps there’s truth in the legend, and he actually has been poisoning the tip of his sword. 

Emma knows first-hand just how awful LeCroy can be; he’d never bothered wooing her, instead he had focused his charms on Snow, convincing her that Emma’s fears about marrying him were youthful ones. He had promised Snow that he would love and cherish her, and assured her mother that through this marriage, they would be able to keep their kingdom strong. 

All the while, being very clear with Emma exactly where her place would be and what her purpose would be; ceremonial on the best of days, but mostly lived in quiet servitude to him. 

She wonders what would have happened if she’d had the courage to plead with her mother to not force her to marry LeCroy? Would the old Snow White of legend, the one who once upon a time believed in true love and who married for such an ideal have finally re-emerged? Or would her need to control her kingdom with a protective iron fist have won out? Emma hadn’t stayed around to find out; she had fled rather than fight the impending nuptials, running into Bae and well...the rest is history.

Sighing, she sits up and stretches her muscles; since going on the run and ending up on a pirate ship, she’s gotten accustomed to some rather odd sleeping arrangements. Some, like her time sharing the Captain’s Quarters, have been reasonably comfortable, while others have been less so. This is definitely not one that she’ll remember with great fondness, she muses.

Especially with Regina knocking on death’s door as she quite clearly is. 

As it turns out, she seems to have more affection for Regina than she had expected. 

Frowning slightly at this thought, and all of the other confusing ones in her mind, she crawls over to the fire pit, and starts working to get it up and roaring again. She thinks about Pinocchio’s lessons, and within minutes, there’s flames licking the air, immediately warming it. Her next stop is over to Regina, her hands again going down to check a wound that just keeps looking worse and worse.

“Hey,” she says softly, when she sees Regina’s tired, but aware eyes on her.

“I didn’t think I’d go out like this,” Regina admits, her voice raspy and pain-choked.

“You’re not,” Emma insists. “Marian and Smee will find us.”

“Before LeCroy does?”

“Probably not,” they hear from behind them. Cold and cruel.

Emma feels Regina’s hand curl around hers, squeezing. Regina says, “It’s going to be okay.” 

Inexplicable words considering their situation and her condition. 

But then, impossibly, she’s sitting up, a hand on her damaged side, steel in her eyes. “Lucian.”

Standing in the mouth of the cave, with just one other soldier there (Emma thinks about lessons from Marian and Smee, about how terrible weather can cause changes in usual formations, and thinks that it’s likely that the torrential downpour and LeCroy’s absolute need to return back to Snow White looking like a conquering hero had made him decide to splinter his men into smaller groups than advisable), LeCroy sneers at Regina. “Mind your place.” Then he laughs. “On the floor; well, then, I suppose you have.” 

“Clever,” Regina drawls, and then just as inexplicable as her words of assurance to Emma had been a few moments earlier, she’s standing, picking up her sword as she does. “What is it about men like you? Always thinking with their defective pricks instead of their two brain cells?” 

“I guess you’ll find out just how not defective it really is before we’re all over.”

“How original, rape threats,” Regina chuckles darkly. She looks at Emma. “Your mother sucks.” 

It seems like a non sequitur, but Emma understands the why behind the words – the stark disbelief that Snow White would have sentenced her only daughter to be with this brute of a man. It would have been one thing if Emma had chosen him, but she clearly fears him instead. Clearly fears what he will do to her; unfortunately, for good reason.

“Not a threat,” LeCroy promises, and then he shoves forward, his sword violently crashing against Regina’s. Despite the oily arrogance of his words, he’s plainly infuriated by her.

Regina, for her part, is too busy struggling to stay upright and conscious to care much about how much he wants to destroy her; everything is spinning around, and she knows that despite her bravery and her desire to protect Emma from this man, the blood leaking out of her now ruptured wound is sentencing her to an end she believed that she had escaped.

But perhaps, she thinks, as she finally stumbles to her knees, blood spilling down her, her sword dropping from her hand as Emma screams for her and LeCroy laughs – this end was inevitable. 

So much evil done, what then does it actually matter if she has changed?

That she wants more than vengeance now?

Love, hope, family, and freedom…all things that are disappearing along with her life. 

She feels arms around her – Emma’s. Like she’s valiantly trying to protect Regina.

Her fingers fold over Emma’s, and she feels a burst of so much affection for her. 

So much - 

LeCroy laughs. “Oh, I think I like our dearly deposed Queen down on her knees for me.” He extends his sword, then. “Emma, out of the way. I have a corpse to make for your mother.” 

“She’d want her back alive,” Emma states, her hand tightening around Regina’s.

“She won’t make the journey in the condition she’s in so best to just end this here. But don’t worry, her head will accompany us home,” he tells her, laughing at his own grisly joke.

“No,” Emma says softly. “That’s not what’s going to happen - not now or ever.” 

“No?” he repeats, and Regina thinks of how Emma had stood up to her on the _Jolly Roger._

She puts a hand out to stop Emma now, to keep Emma from getting herself hurt for… _her_. 

But Emma just squeezes her hand, and then reaches down for Regina’s sword. “No.” 

LeCroy laughs. “Are you serious, right now?” He looks back at the other soldier with him, who chuckles in response, both men eyeing the young princess with entirely too much bemusement. 

So Emma strikes, cutting LeCroy’s shoulder. 

His eyes widen as he touches the blood there. “Bitch.” He moves to slap her, but she stabs out again, this time finding contact with his midsection; it’s not violent, and she’s still tentative, having never fought to kill before, but she’s making it clear that she will attack. 

And she says, “If you don’t leave, I will kill you, Lucian. If you doubt me, test me. I’m not the same girl my mother was going to sell off to you. I am a mother myself now.” She flicks her sword up to stop an attack from her, her feet dancing almost expertly. “And the woman you are trying to kill, the one you threatened, she is my…Captain, and I will defend her to the death.” 

“Emma –“ Regina murmurs, both in protest and in awe.

“She’s the Evil Fucking Queen,” he growls, attacking again; this time, she circles under, and in a quick hard motion which he clearly was not expecting (turns out that her secret weapon is being underestimated by everyone), disarms him, sending his blade flying. He reaches back immediately, getting a replacement one from the other soldier, turning back to see Emma has his in her hand now.

“Well, then, I suppose that she’s my Queen now, too,” Emma challenges, her eyes bright, almost even dancing.

“Are you fucking her?” he asks, looking over at Regina in horror; normally, were the situation different, and were Emma a different person, she might smirk in response just to irritate him.

But this isn’t a normal situation, and Emma is far from a normal person to her.

For better or for worse, whatever that means.

“That’s not your business,” Emma answers coldly. “No part of me is your business, Lucian.” 

“Your mother promised you to me.” 

Emma shakes her head. “I’m not going back with you.” She lifts his sword up. “Chances are, you will eventually defeat me. I’m very new to this, and well, you’re a butcher. But I’m not the girl you remember; not anymore, so you had better hope that I don’t injure you.” She motions to his blade. “I assume the whispers are true, and it’s poisoned.” She nods, then looks over at Regina, smiling warmly. “You know, on the water, pirates have to deal with a lot of potential health problems such as diseases and poisons. They learn how to treat and survive them.” She then puts the sword out in front of her. “Do you know how, Lucian? Can you survive a wound?”

“This is madness. You’re committing treason. On behalf of that witch.” 

“I’m protecting my family of which she is a part and of which you are not.” 

The word "family" echoes in Regina's mind, repeating over and over, eyes wide in disbelief as she watches Emma stand up to LeCroy.

“Your mother will be so disappointed in you.” 

“What else is new? Shall we fight now or –“

“You’re going to be my wife, little girl,” he assures her. “And assuming I don’t strangle your bastard child outright, I’m going to be its father.” He looks at Regina. “And if she survives this, I promise you, her public execution will be the entertainment at our reception.”

“You’ll go through me to touch either one of them,” Emma retorts. 

“Don’t think I won’t be back for you,” he growls, and then he and the other soldier are fleeing.

That’s when the fight Regina had been waging to stay upright finally ends, and she collapses, falling to her side first, and then rolling to her back with a whimper so she can stare upwards.

Emma is down next to her immediately, her soft hands once again on Regina.

“Stay with me,” Emma pleads, hands first on Regina’s face, so gentle and yet so desperate. 

“So Marian did actually did teach you to...to fight?” Regina gasps out. 

“She did, and you did,” Emma replies, sounding frantic as her hands fall down to Regina’s side, peeling away the blood soaked bandages to reveal stitching that has torn open. 

“M…me?”

“You. Since the moment I came onto your ship, I’ve watched you. I’ve seen you fighting and playing. I’ve seen you dancing and dueling. I’ve seen you frustrated, and I’ve seen you angry. Usually at me,” she admits with an almost affectionate chuckle. “But I’ve also seen you laughing until you were bent over at the waist, and I’ve seen your kindness towards those you care for.” She presses cloth against the wound, wincing at Regina’s sharp pained inhale of breath. “I’ve seen the lengths you’re willing to go to for your crew. And I just saw you try to defend me.”

“You said I'm a bully,” Regina replies, looking down at what Emma’s doing. 

“You are one, and I don’t like it…but you _were_ trying to make me stronger. I guess all I ever wanted was you to believe I could be strong enough to stay; I hope…I hope you do now.”

“Oh, Emma,” Regina murmurs. "How do you not see how strong you actually are? How do you not see who -" the words cut off  as another wave of pain shoots like electricity through her. Practically shaking now, she looks down at her side and at Emma’s blood-covered hands. Gasping, she tells Emma, “The stitches aren’t going to work again; you’re going have to cauterize the wound or I’m going to bleed out.” Her limbs feeling like lead, she motions down to the leg of her pants, to where a small dagger is sheathed there.

Emma’s eyes go wide. “You mean –“ she looks over at the fire. “No, no, I can’t –“

“You can.” Her eyes find Emma’s. “I do…I believe in you.”

Emma lets out a ragged breath just short of a sob, nodding instead of speaking until she manages to get control of herself. Finally, softly, “I don’t want to hurt you, Regina.” 

“I’ve been through worse.” She gestures towards the blade again. 

Emma frowns at that even as she retrieves the blade from the sheath, turning it over in her hands. It’s extremely well made, jeweled and ornate. Like it had come from a royal treasury.

It probably had.

“Maybe I don’t want you to have to go through it again. Not at my hands,” Emma insists, the hand not holding the blade lifting up to gently touch Regina’s face again. She smiles down at Regina as she speaks, her vibrant eyes so wide and tender, and so full of something so very, _very_ dangerous.

Something that Regina has seen burn down and rebuild entire realms.

Something that she has been chasing and craving since the day Daniel’s heart turned to ash. 

“Careful, Princess, I’m the wrong person to fall for,” Regina warns, blinking slowly.

“I don’t know about the princess, but Emma makes her own choices,” Emma replies defiantly, turning towards the fire, and then tentatively dipping the flat side of the dagger into it.

“I believe that’s why you’re pregnant and playing pirate,” Regina notes wryly.

“I’ve never been happier,” Emma counters. “Well, perhaps except for right now.” And then, with that said, she’s leaning in and pressing her lips to Regina’s, the kiss soft and tentative. 

Curious and uncertain, clumsy even, but still so sweet.

Regina doesn’t have the strength to kiss back, and certainly not the desire to stop it. So she lets Emma control the kiss, those petal soft lips feeling like salvation to her.

She feels something strange against her wounded side, then, something hot and metal. 

A moment later, she feels a pain as close to unimaginable as she has ever felt before.

She smells burning flesh.

Emma keeps kissing her; she’s pretty sure she bites Emma’s lip in response to the pain even as her legs kick.

The pain of her burning flesh quickly becomes too much, and then Regina’s wrenching back and away from the kiss. Her eyes wide, she starts screaming, first silently, and then in a horrific way that Emma knows she will never forget. Instead of pulling away, Emma reaches for her, and wraps her arms loosely around Regina, thinking of all the times she wishes someone had done this for her, and hoping that it feels as safe as she always imagined that it would. 

When it’s over, Emma pulls the blade away, and Regina sags backwards, crying softly.

As it turns out, no matter how much pain life has served you, there’s always more to come.

“Shh,” Emma soothes as she follows her to the ground, kissing her face, gently kissing the tears away from her cheeks. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“Why?” Regina asks, the word so ragged and broken as to almost be inaudible. 

A thousand different questions being asked.

“Because this is what I want,” Emma replies. “And I think it’s what you want, too.” 

“We rarely get what we want," Regina murmurs, her hand drifting up to wipe blood away from Emma's lip - blood she'd caused.

“Maybe not,” Emma admits, catching Regina's hand and closing it within her own. She knows that the cauterization is pointless unless help comes for them before LeCroy regroups and comes back with reinforcements. “But maybe for a little while, we can have this.”

Regina, far too tired to do anything more, simply nods and falls against Emma, curling in.

Musing about the once powerful Queen emotionally felled by a young princess. 

By Snow White’s daughter, of all the princesses. 

It’s perversely poetic. 

As her life tends to be.

 

* * *

 

The rain continues to fall in waves, spelling an impending rapid conclusion to their stay here; Regina isn’t anywhere close to healthy enough to move, but they haven’t much choice before the water that’s already starting to encroach the cave rapidly overwhelms them.

“Hey,” Emma says softly, an arm under her; Regina’s head lolls to the side, her eyes flickering open for a few minutes before falling back closed. “You can’t leave me, okay?” Emma pleads.

“You’ll leave me,” Regina replies, her words only audible if Emma strains to hear them. “Everyone does eventually.”

“Even if we do, we’ll always come back as long as you want us there,” Emma answers, one hand on her belly as her son kicks, seemingly in confirmation. It’s been a tiring few nights for her and her little man, and she’d be lying if she were to say she isn’t worried about him considering the coldness and the elements and the stress, but he’s hanging in, it would seem. 

“I have more stories to tell you,” Regina mumbles, and it seems nonsensical, but it isn’t; their lives are stories, and Regina’s in particular seems to be a dozen different almost discordant ones.

“I want to hear them all.”

She tightens her hold around Regina, mindful of how close her arm is to a wound that desperately needs medical attention; the surface level nerves in the skin appear to be shot, thankfully, and so Regina doesn’t react to the unfortunate slight angled touch, but that doesn’t stop Emma from wincing as she starts to slowly move Regina across the rocky cavern floor. 

She wonders when this had happened to her – when she’d become brave enough to do this.

To save someone else without fear. 

To fall for someone without hesitation.

To actually crave to see what might possibly come next. 

Her doubts surface, then, and she wonders if she’s just being a different flavor of naïve; not only do they have to survive the elements and Regina’s terrible injury, but what if the kiss had been all her, and Regina had simply been too exhausted to push her away. After all, why would a jaded, far-too-traveled former queen who hates her family want to be with her, anyway?

Vengeance, perhaps, and maybe –

“You’re thinking, my dear,” Regina says, her words slurring, but still somewhat intelligible. Like she's fighting for this conversation.

“I’m afraid," Emma admits.

It sounds incredibly silly to her own ears, and she wonders if Regina will assume her to be still little more than a soft little princess that despite all that has happened over the last days.

“We’ll be okay. You said so,” Regina answers, sagging heavier against her. “I believe you.”

“Why?” Emma queries, unable to stop the question from rushing forward. Unable to stop the voices in her mind that have always rushed to offer up doubts.

Voice stuttering and breaking, Regina manages with the slightest smile, “You’re Emma.” 

Before Emma can think of an answer to that, she hears the sound of feet sloshing through rain; it seems far too soon for LeCroy to be returning, but well, he had been humiliated in front of one of his men, and he is the type of a bastard who’d want to immediately answer such a perceived disrespect. Her arm tightens protectively around Regina, and she lifts up the sword. 

“Easy,” Regina murmurs, her hand finding Emma’s.

It seems that they’ve suddenly swapped poles again, Regina now fortifying her instead. 

The footsteps come closer, moving towards them from just outside the cave.

They hear a man yell,” Captain!” 

“Smee?” Emma suggests.

And then a woman follows with, “Regina? Emma?”

“Marian,” they both say together, Regina’s voice lower, and more of an exhaled breath. 

“Back here!” Emma yells. “Hurry!”

The sloshing feet get louder, and then the cave is filling with pirates, led up by Marian and Smee, both of them with their swords extended. There’s a moment where they stop, and just stare, surprised by seeing Emma with Regina’s blade, Regina in her arms.

And then Marian recognizes why Regina is in her arms.

“Where?” she asks, rushing to them, and holding out an arm to help Emma with Regina.

“Her side; I think the sword she was cut with might have been poisoned.” 

Marian curses as they lower Regina back to the ground together. Her fingers moving to probe the wound, she murmurs a soft apology to Regina. “You sealed this?”

“She was bleeding out. I tried to stitch her up, but –“ 

“You did good, Emma,” Marian assures her, hands lifting to Regina’s face; it’s then that Emma realizes that Regina has passed out again, seeming to allow her strength to fade now that help is here. 

“Will she survive?” Emma asks, not even bothering to hide her desperation.

“We’re going to do everything we can to make sure she’s our captain for a very long time to come,” Marian promises, and then she’s motioning to one of the strapping young male pirates; gently, he lifts Regina into his arms, bearing her full dead weight. Once she’s satisfied that Regina is secure, Marian turns back to Emma, eyeing her curiously, taking in the sword in her hand. “You look like you have a story to tell. Will you be coming back with us so you can tell it?”

Emma looks away, those old doubts barking in her head. What if –

“Emma, where’s home?” Marian asks, breaking through the gathering dark clouds. 

“I don’t know anymore.” 

“All right, easier question, then: where do you _want_ to be?” 

She looks up at Smee and the other pirates, and then over at Regina. Finally, she answers firmly, “With all of you.” 

Marian gazes at her like she knows that there’s another answer there.

One that sounds a whole lot more like, “With her.”

But then Marian is smiling and saying, “Good, then let’s get the hell back to our ship, Swan.”

Emma grins, eyes bright even as she so desperately worries about Regina. 

Because at least tonight, she will be somewhere she has chosen to be.

 


	4. Four.

 

It’s more than a little disquieting to see Regina being carried onto the _Jolly Roger_ , her wounded body limp, and almost lifeless. The rest of the crew seems to recognize the horror of the moment, because as they launch the ship out into the ocean, her canons hot to stop pursuers (there are a few, but they are quickly scared off by the superior might of the _Jolly Roger_ ), there’s an oppressive heaviness hanging over the deck, the silence only broken by the terse chatter required for the job at hand. There’s a pervasive sense of dread running throughout every man and woman aboard, a fear that before the sun sets tonight, their captain will die.

Smee reminds them all that this is far from the first injury she's suffered – perhaps not even the worst one – and insists that she will, as always, pull through with a growl. It works to a degree, and Emma adds her voice to the reassurance, but still they worry. 

Worry and wait even as the _Jolly Roger_ continues her trek out into the deepest waters.

 

* * *

 

Standing in the doorway of the Captain’s Quarters, Emma watches as Marian treats the burn on Regina’s side with a goldish balm. Once applied, she carefully cuts three small slits into the swollen area around the initial wound, drawing out the yellow-green poison from it.

It looks gross and it reeks even worse, which makes Emma’s stomach roll and her baby kick in protest, but somehow she manages to keep it together. Knowing that she needs to be strong enough to be here right now. 

The entire time, Regina is mercifully unconscious, her body feverishly shuddering every now and again. 

When it’s over, and Marian has done all she can, she says to Emma, “Stay with her.”

“I won’t leave,” Emma promises, her voice heavy with emotion.

Marian looks at her, thoughtful and curious, and then says, "No, you won't, will you?"

 

* * *

 

The next several days are extraordinarily turbulent, considering the high speed of the fleeing _Jolly Roger_ , a mild storm slamming waves into the ship, and of course, Regina’s tenuous condition. Though, perhaps, tenuous is an understatement; she slips disturbingly close to the edge of death a half dozen times over the first few nights, her breath rattling. Mercifully, on the fifth day at sea, her fever finally breaks, and she tumbles from restless semi consciousness into an exhausted slumber, her body eventually cooling down and settling. 

Emma (who only left her side to eat and take care of biology) sits beside her, talking to her belly, telling her little boy all of the wild adventures they have ahead of them. He stirs and kicks in approval, and she chuckles. “I know,” she murmurs, fingers drumming against her bump in response to her son’s kicking. “We want to see so much. Experience so much. Everything. But my little one, there are going to be hard days ahead, too. But don’t worry, I’ll always protect you. Always.”

“Mm. Something tells me he’s going to have the same underestimated fighting spirit that his momma does,” Marian notes as she steps inside the cabin, sitting down next to Regina and peeling the blankets back. She’s been a constant presence over the last few days, not as much as Emma, of course, but still always here. Her hands are more practiced in medicine, steady and sure, but she’s involved Emma in every step of the healing. Seeming to recognize that Emma needs to be part of helping to make Regina better.

Seeming to understand that something had changed between the two women in that cave.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Emma says, eyes on Marian’s hands as she checks the injury caused by cauterizing the wound. At first, it’d blistered and looked gruesome, but it finally appears to be pinking around the edges. Satisfied, Marian places a fresh layer of bandages over it, pulling the blankets back up.

“I’m pretty sure Regina herself would argue with you; you saved her life. You fought _for_ her.” 

“With the skills you showed me.” 

“I didn’t show you courage, Emma. That came from inside of you. Despite what you think about yourself, you're a fighter." 

Emma allows an almost shy smile. “I suppose she brings out my…combative side sometimes.” 

“Even on her behalf?” Marian teases, already knowing the answer. 

Emma’s eyes fall to Regina’s quietly sleeping form. “I think especially on her behalf.” 

Marian hums. "You have yourself a problem.” 

“I do.” Her hand rubs at her belly. “I’m sure Lucian has told my parents about my baby.” 

“I’m sure he has, and I’m sure they’ll be redoubling their attempts to find us, but that’s not really what I meant. I was more talking about your…feelings for Regina.” 

“Oh. Those.” Emma grimaces, and then shrugs. “No, they…they don’t matter.”

“Of course they matter. If you want them to. If you don’t, well that’s another issue, but –” 

“No, no, they don’t,” Emma insists. “I’m not even twenty-one yet –”

“Possibly valid, but out here, age stops meaning much of anything real fast. You’ve suffered a broken heart, Emma, and you’ve felt the pain of loss and betrayal. You’re not a child. Not anymore.”

“Maybe I’m not,” she allows, thinking of all the times Regina has called one, and wondering if after everything, she still sees her as such. “But I’m pregnant with her surrogate son’s child.”

“Family is strange. And I would say he was far more like a brother to her than a son.” 

“Okay, but…this is a pirate ship, and there’s no room for romance and children –” 

Marian’s eyebrow lifts. “Now you’re just throwing out whatever excuse you can pull out of your ass, aren’t you? I mean, you _are_ aware that Booker and I have been a thing for…years, right? If you’re going to argue the same sex part, well, Deacon and Tomlin are married. Just because the vast majority of the crew is male doesn’t mean romance isn’t happening.” She tilts her head in curiosity. “Is Regina the first woman you’ve ever been interested in or…are there others?” 

For a few seconds, Emma doesn’t reply, and it’s answer enough for Marian, but then quietly, Emma finally provides, “There have been…others, but they never...really went anywhere. In my parent’s kingdom, it’s not unusual for a man and a man or a woman and a woman…unless you’re royalty and a young princess who no one actually believes in or wants to be led by. Then, you exist to –” 

“Marry and have children,” Marian groans. “What we are all expected to do.”

“I guess I managed the child part ahead of scheduled,” Emma notes self-depreciatingly. “Which, is still an issue. All of you have reminded me a hundred times over that this is a working ship with no place for those who can’t work it; I doubt that’s going to change just because Regina is…whatever…of me.”

“Whatever of you,” Marian repeats with a disbelieving shake of her head. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘fond’. As for your son…well, things change.” 

“I don’t want to change her. I mean she can be a bit of an asshole at times, but…I think I’m fond, too.” 

“Trust me, the asshole part is unlikely to ever fully go away, but you _have_ changed her."

“For the better?”

“I believe so. Look, wild guess here, but I’d wager that Regina’s gender isn’t going to be your mother’s biggest issue with everything that’s happened between the two of you.”

Emma chuckles at that, glancing over at the sleeping woman. “No, probably not.” 

Marian stands to leave. “Life is hard. Our lives are harder. I believe that the heart finds a way to do its thing wherever and whenever it can find a way to. Sometimes, what happens doesn’t make sense to anyone but the people involved in it. On this ship, sometimes it’s two men who have fallen for each other, or it’s me and Booker who keep trying to figure it out. Or maybe it’s two women who both drive each other crazy but also tend to bring out the best in each other.”

“We fight constantly,” Emma protests, but it sounds half-hearted, bordering on insincere. 

Marian reaches the door, then stops. “I’ve known Regina for a very long time now. She has allowed me the privilege of her ear, but also the honor of seeing who she actually is beneath all of the stories. She’s been through a terrible amount of pain and betrayal in her life, and it has closed her off to a great many things.” Marian chuckles to herself “She would tell you that I’m once again talking out of turn right now, but…my care is for her. I wouldn’t be even bothering to suggest this if I didn’t think the two of you could make each other happy.” She shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I don’t believe that Regina could ever truly be happy and fulfilled with someone who doesn’t challenge her constant bullshit. She is a tremendously complicated woman who has a lot of wonderful and lots of not-so-wonderful parts to her. Under all of that, she’s…my friend and my family, but she is also the single most self-defeating stubborn woman I’ve ever met – if you don’t push her, she won’t go anywhere but where she’s used to being – and I think that that’s a very sad and unhappy place for her. She deserves more. I want more for her. For you, too, Emma."

“You really think –” 

“I think you could be good for each other. Whether that’s what you actually want, well that’s not up for me to decide, now is it?” Marian notes, and then she turns and steps out of the cabin, shutting the door behind her, leaving Emma alone with her slumbering captain.

Her hand shaking, Emma reaches out and takes one of Regina’s, lightly squeezing.

“You _do_ drive me crazy,” she admits. 

Right on cue, Regina lets out a soft murmur, not a cry or a whimper, more of an exhale. 

Some vague kind of agreement, perhaps.

So Emma pushes her luck, “But I think maybe…maybe she’s right. Maybe we could be.”

The only response she gets – and she doesn’t dare to hope that it’s a meaningful one (only she kind of does, because deep in her now bruised heart is still the idea of finding love and happiness and all of the wonderful things that come with those two ideals) – is Regina’s hand seeming to tighten around hers. Probably just reflex, Emma thinks, and then squeezes back.

 

* * *

 

Reassured that Regina’s out of the woods, and no longer needs the constant vigil, Emma allows herself to step out of the cabin for a breath of air come morning. It’s a pretty day, and she craves the feel of the soft ocean breeze flickering against her cheeks.

She steps up towards the helm, standing with Booker, who is gazing out at the water, squinting as he tries to make sense of all of the little specks he sees. He grunts in greeting to her, then hands her a cup of what is likely tea. “Good to see you, Swan.” 

She feels like it’s a loaded statement, and grins in response.

She’s still up there with him almost two hours later – listening to him talk about the way the tides can alter trajectory and steering and how cartography is an art form in need of respect – when she hears the murmuring of the crew from just down below them. Turning to see what the commotion is about, her face lights up when she sees Regina gingerly making her way across the deck. Dressed in loose flowing clothes, including a not-at-all form fitting ruby red blouse (which still looks amazing on her, Emma muses, and wonders how far gone she truly is) Regina has one hand settled across her side. It will still take a fair amount of time for it to heal completely, but Marian believes that the worst is finally behind them.

“Captain,” Smee greets warmly as he steps over to greet her before she can reach the step, offering her an arm in case she needs the assistance. “It’s about time you’re up and around.”

Regina inclines her head in bemused agreement even as she nudges him away, insistent on presenting herself as strong to her crew. “About time, indeed, Mr. Smee.” She looks over at Emma, her eyes raking over the younger woman, something curious and not quite identifiable sparking there as she moves over to her. “Miss Swan, seems I owe you my gratitude.”

“Gratitude,” Emma repeats, like she doesn’t at all understand the word. 

“Yes, I wouldn’t have survived my wounding if not for you. You were my… _Savior_.”

“No…” 

“Don’t be modest now, dear; you did well.”

“Right. Of course,” Emma nods, unable to hide her hurt; Regina might be adept at hiding her emotions and putting up high walls, but Emma’s anything but. “You’re…you’re welcome.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Hold that thought,” she instructs, ignoring the way Emma frowns in response, clearly not at all understanding what’s going on between her and Regina right now. She also ignores the knowing, somewhat exasperated look Marian is throwing her way. The one suggesting this is a very stupid way to handle her incredibly complicated feelings for Emma.

But then, Regina wants to do that in private, anyway. 

 

Clearing her thoughts, Regina looks up at Booker. “Where are we and what are we doing?”

“Here,” Booker states, pointing at a map. “We’re going to stay out as deep as we can as long as we can, and keep moving. I think we have some time before they gather their fleet together.” 

“Some,” Regina murmurs in agreement. To Smee, she asks, “What’s the condition of the ship?” 

“She’s sea-worthy, Captain” Smee replies. “We were able to finish the repairs and bring on additional supplies. The repairs we still need to do, we can conduct while we’re out here.” 

“And we have a fully restocked galley,” Marian assures her. “We’re in as good of shape as we could possibly hope for considering we’ll need to be at sea for a while without going ashore.”

“Indeed.” She looks at Emma, gazing intensely at her for a moment, eyes drifting from her face to her belly and then back up. “We just need to buy ourselves a few more months.”

“And then what?” Emma asks, her brows knit in confusion.

“We’ll do as we’ve always planned to: once your child is born, and there’s no longer a risk to you or him, we’ll use one of our beans, jump realms and go where your parents can’t follow.” 

“If I’m the one putting everyone in danger –” 

Her words are halted by a sharp look from Regina, as inexplicable as everything else. 

“We’ve also been looking for places where we can try to hide, and in case of an emergency, go ashore. There’s really nowhere optimal, but I think maybe we can use the islands up near the northern tip of Misthaven –“ Smee chuckles when he sees Regina pull a face at the mention of this (when Emma had told them that Snow had renamed their land to that, Regina had made a comment about how only Snow White could come up with a name quite so pompous and cloying). Once Regina has motioned for him to continue, he says, “ Up next to Arendale to hide in, if need be.” 

“Plot me out what that looks like; we need to stay as hidden as possible, and not take unnecessary risks. With Emma entering the last trimester, and us not having someone who specializes in pregnancies aboard, we need to do everything we can to ensure her safety.” 

Ignoring Regina’s look, Emma steps forward. “I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.”

Regina’s eyebrow lifts, her hand on her side. “I think we’re perhaps a little bit late for that.” 

“But –” 

“Plot me multiple courses, Booker. Marian, Smee, give me as many options as you can,” Regina says sharply. Then to Emma, her voice just as direct and clearly an order, “With me, Princess.”

Emma thinks to argue, but she’s almost too stunned to do so. Too taken aback. 

So much for a change in either Regina or their relationship with each other. 

So much for –

Her thoughts stop the moment they’re through the door and in Regina’s cabin; there are hands on the fabric of her vest, roughly spinning around so that her back is to the wall. Regina demands, “You kissed me in that cave. Was it just to stop me from screaming?”

“No…no?” Emma stammers. “I meant it wasn’t… _just_ that.”

“Then why? Why did you kiss me?” she queries, stepping closer to Emma, her eyes so dark.

Emma takes a breath, realizing that her answer is going to alter things. Hopefully not for the worse. “Because I wanted to. I’ve wanted to almost since the first day we met. I mean I’m not sure I realized it at first, because I was heartbroken, and you were an ass.” 

“You’re insane, you know that, right?” Regina breathes, shaking her head. 

Emma nods jerkily. “I…I know. It’s stupid, and I’m not someone you could ever be –”

Her words are cut off as the softest pair of lips she’s ever felt collide with hers; however, there’s nothing gentle about the contact.

Hungry and urgent is how she would describe it.

Regina kisses like she’s fire consuming oxygen, like she’s a furious tidal wave.

Emma’s eyes close as she falls back against the wall, feeling Regina press against her, one hand lifting to tangle in Regina's hair.

“You’re insane,” Regina murmurs again, but keeps on kissing her.

“Maybe,” Emma admits, her head lolling back to give Regina access to her neck.

Access that she takes full advantage of, her tongue and then her teeth skidding across skin.

It’s Emma’s soft moan – almost a whimper - which makes Regina pull back from her. 

“Is this just your pregnancy hormones running out of control?” 

“I don’t think so. I mean, I think it’s more than _just_ …them.” 

“Did you return to the _Jolly Roger_ because you were hoping to pursue a relationship with me?”

“No,” Emma says, honestly, breathing hard, forcing herself to focus enough to answer Regina’s rapid-fire questions. “I returned here because I realized when we were in that cave, and I wasn’t sure that we’d survive the night – if _you_ would survive – that this is the first place I’ve ever felt safe. This is where I want my son to be born.” 

“You feel 'safe'  even with how I've sometimes made you feel? How…harsh I’ve been to you?” After a moment, Regina adds on a somewhat grudgingly mumbled, “Occasionally.” 

It’s enough to make Emma smile, and she finds herself wondering when this bullheaded stubbornness of Regina’s had become attractive to her? Perhaps, she muses, when it had served to keep Regina alive. “Yes, even when you’re…occasionally harsh. But, I would be okay if you could try to…trust me and maybe not…constantly test me?” 

Regina steps away from Emma, her hand going to her side. She winces as she moves, but quickly waves Emma away from approaching. “I don’t trust easily, Emma.”

“I know. I don’t, either. But…you did in that cave. You trusted me there.” 

“I did. And you saved us both,” Regina tells her, but she sounds like she’s talking to herself. 

Reminding herself or perhaps even convincing herself of the truth of that. 

“I’m no Savior,” Emma corrects, frowning. “I just did what you always wanted me to do.” 

Regina lets out a short bark of laughter. “No, I mostly just wanted you to step out of your parents’ shadows and figure out who you wanted to be. I wanted you to define yourself and stop letting others define you. Saving my ass…was just…fortuitous.”

“You weren’t going to leave me with him."

“Your betrothed?” Regina spits out, and then shakes her head. “You know that I was married to your grandfather. You likely know that it was an arranged marriage. I hated that man intensely.” She starts pacing, almost like she’s prowling, a kind of dark anger seething around her. “But even he wasn’t as awful as the fucking prick your mother saw fit to marry you off to.” 

“He is a valuable ally,” Emma tells her, her voice quiet.

“And if your mother were King George, I’d understand using you as a way to obtain that ally because he was a degenerate creep who used everyone, but as your mother is someone who married a shepherd pretending to be a prince for True Love, I am a bit…baffled.”

“Lucian has always treated her with the utmost respect and reverence,” Emma replies dully. 

“I’m not the first person you’ve had this conversation with, am I?” Regina asks, stepping closer again. This time, she puts both of her hands up on Emma’s face, the touch incredibly gentle.

“No,” Emma admits. Then smiles, sadness creasing the corners of her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

That earns a hearty chuckle from Regina. “One-track mind, have you, Princess?”

“On the contrary, Your Majesty; I would just prefer not think about anything to do with Lucian LeCroy. The thought of marrying him…well, I’d rather do something more enjoyable.”

“As would I,” Regina agrees. Then, cocking her head, she notes, “You know, it’s funny: you can’t stand me calling you that, but I find that I quite enjoy when you call me 'Your Majesty'.”

“Really?” Emma laughs.

“Really.” Leaning in, Regina settles her forehead against Emma’s. Almost immediately, and quite without even thinking about it, Emma finds herself exhaling, almost like she’s allowing herself to finally breathe with Regina so close. Regina murmurs, “As for LeCroy, I promise you, Emma, come hell or high-water, you will not have to marry that man. He’ll go through me.”

Tears in her eyes, Emma’s only other response is to pull back just slightly, and then leaning forward again, kisses Regina. Her lips are equally soft, but rougher in motion and rhythm.

She’s unpracticed eagerness, youthful needy desperation.

She’s like the evening surf rushing towards the shore, frantic to find grounding.

“Easy,” Regina murmurs, a hand settling on her cheek, fingers tracing across the skin.

“Am…am I doing it wrong?” Emma asks, fighting to catch her breath; Regina is not the first person she has ever kissed. Before Bae, there had been two other young male suitors (they’d never gotten past some mild kissing), but this is still…new. Bae had shown her much, but five minutes with Regina, and she realizes that she is really quite unexperienced. 

“No, you’re doing it perfectly,” Regina soothes. “But…” she leans in and kisses Emma again, slow and almost luxurious this time, showing no interest in speeding it up or going any deeper. 

When their lips part, she looks intently at Emma.

Her eyes intense and too dark to really understand. 

And yet, Emma thinks she almost does. “But…you’re not…going anywhere?”

“No,” Regina assures her, one hand dropping back to her side. “I survived. Thanks to you.”

“You scared me,” Emma admits, astonishingly content to stay close to Regina. “Which…scares me. Because just a fortnight ago, I thought I would be happy to never see you again.” 

“I thought the same thing,” Regina chuckles wryly, her fingers lifting to run across the planes of Emma’s face. “Marian kept telling me I’d regret it. I’m glad I never found out if she was right.”

“Me, too,” Emma murmurs, leaning up for another kiss; she thinks she could do this forever.

Which probably isn’t terribly conducive to the whole running a working ship thing.

But she has to admit, her raging pregnancy hormones certainly do seem to appreciate her new found affection for Regina’s lips so if they keep kissing for a few long minutes, and if she lets Regina’s hand slip under her shirt, her fingers warm and gentle against her rounded belly, well then she figures she has something to blame it on. 

But then Regina is sighing dramatically and pulling away. “We should slow down.”

“Oh.”

That earns her another laugh. “As wonderful as this…feels, you need to understand what you’re getting yourself into.” The humor quickly fades away, a dark pensiveness overtaking Regina’s features. “There is something between us, and maybe there has been almost since the moment we met, but Emma, I am still the same person I was that fortnight ago. I am mercurial and impetuous, and I will anger you because I push back at times when I feel like everyone and everything is too close. Even when deep down, I want those things - those people - to be close. I can try to do better, and I _will_ try to do better; but you need to understand."

“Then help me to.”

“I am the Captain of this ship, Emma, and that has helped me to finally find, well...family. I love these people like they’re my brothers and sisters, like they’re my children. Under all of that, though, there is still the Evil Queen. And she is rash and reckless and occasionally very cruel when hurt.” 

“I met that woman," Emma concurs. "But I also met the woman who showed me how to sail and who refused to let me go back to a man she knew I didn’t want to be with. I also met the one who keeps trying to figure out a way to figure out what has happened with my mother because she still needs to see the good in her.” Emma smiles slightly. “You said that you wanted me to figure out how to define myself...stop letting others define me and tell me who I am. Well, maybe you need to stop letting how others see you be what you see."

"You're not supposed to throw my words back at me," Regina notes wryly.

Emma grins in response, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“Fine," Regina concedes. "But for as much as I push you, you have to push me back. You have to be willing to fight me.”

“Depends on if you’ll throw me in the brig every time I do,” Emma answers with a smirk.

That earns her a small chuckle. Then, “How did you become this person after…everything?”

“I guess maybe freedom…isn’t quite the struggle everyone thought it would be for me,” Emma answers, and the response is a half cheeky callback to an early conversation of theirs, but also a bittersweet reminder of how both of them really are trying to figure out their own definitions for themselves. And how Emma is just finally coming into one that feels like its her own.

“I would say so,” Regina confirms, an attempt to pull Emma past the doubts that still lie just beneath the surface. Unfortunately, she’s not nearly as successful at doing that for herself. The smile she offers Emma quickly gives away to another frown. “But my previous warning for you stands. I am not an especially easy woman to…love. I’m probably an even harder one to like.”

“Your crew would strongly disagree. And I _am_ a member of your crew,” Emma says brightly. 

Regina laughs. "What are you? A Pirate Princess now?"

Emma frowns as she turns the words over in her mind, finally shrugging and saying, "Maybe."

It's Emma discomfort about what had been meant as a joke which sobers Regina. “Emma, this is something you need to think very seriously about; the choice you make about your future here - on this ship and with me - it’s not one you should take lightly. I’m your mother’s mortal enemy, and I have been a terrible person. You said before that I’m just like the stories, and, I know you were angry, but-"

“I have a choice to make.” She nods. “I know.”

A knock on the door prevents Regina from answering. Instead, she runs her fingers across Emma’s jawline, and says softly, “I keep saying hold that thought, but –”

“Hold that thought,” Emma chuckles, and then because she can, she steals a quick kiss.

Feisty and challenging, trying to say a dozen different things all at once. 

Regina inhales sharply, perhaps understanding. She nods, then steps away from Emma (and Emma feels the distance more than she would care to) and faces the door, saying, “Come in.”

Marian, Booker and Smee enter, maps in hand. 

“Show me,” Regina tells them, leading them towards the table on the far side of the cabin. 

“Three options,” Booker starts. He points towards a spot on the map, using his index finger to trace the route “We could circle the islands to the north, like we talked about earlier…”

“But?” 

“But those islands are right on the border between Misthaven and Arendale, and historically, Queen Elsa has sided with my mother on matters of trade and war,” Emma states.

“Exactly,” Marian confirms. “Snow is mobilizing her fleet to cast a wide ranging net to try to catch us, and she would assume that we’d use exit points from the realm to get away –”

“Then she’s likely to get help from Elsa, and they’ll clog up the islands,” Regina finishes.

“But…that’s assuming this would be Snow’s strategy,” Marian reminds her.

Regina groans. “Exactly what I don’t want to do: spend my afternoon thinking like Snow White. I suppose the good news is, she doesn’t know we have beans, so she’s already wrong on what _our_ strategy is.” She looks at Smee. “Speaking of, how many do we have left?” 

“One, Captain,” Smee tells her. “It’s likely to be a few years before we’ll get more.” 

“Then we’ll need to use it very well when the time comes. Okay, what’s option two?” 

“We can go east; those realms haven’t tended to be as amenable to the western crowns as Arendale has,” Marian notes, tapping the map. “The downside of that is…they’re not really amenable to pirates either, and their fleets are  stronger and more organized. Seldom used, anymore, since the western crowns are smart enough to allow them their minor sovereignty, but they can still cause us issues.”

“We have the fastest ship in any fleet,” Regina says aloud.

“Which won’t matter if we’re surrounded,” Smee reminds her. 

She hums in agreement. “Option three?”

“We stay out as deep as we can until Emma gives birth and then jump,” Booker states. 

“No,” Regina says immediately. “If we get attacked, we’re up a creek. As for Emma, we’ve been exceptionally lucky with her pregnancy so far, but if that changes…” she shakes her head.

“Yeah,” Marian agrees. “That was kind of the… ’the other two options suck’ option.”

“That one is worse,” Regina replies dryly, then turns to Emma. “What do you suggest?”

Emma blinks. “What?” 

“You keep telling me that you’re a member of this crew, and I know you’ve been watching what all of my officers do like a hawk since you’ve been here. You’ve been watching Booker and his maps. And…you know your mother better than I do. The Snow White I once knew appears to be long gone. So, thoughts?” 

“Okay.” She looks at the other faces, expecting to see displeasure in Regina’s question to her, but what she sees is the measured calm of veterans, all of them looking at her for a solution. 

One that protects her. 

Protects all of them.

She licks her lips, and says, “I would circle the Northern Islands. I remember hearing my father talking about how they tried to negotiate for warmer relations with the east…and it didn’t go well. If my mother has become extremely…aggressive in how she handles punishment; the Eastern Lords are even more so. Should they get ahold of us, the fallout will be…terrible, indeed. 

“The fallout is likely to be terrible no matter who gets us. What about Queen Elsa?”

“Despite the cooperation pact, the relationship between my mother and Queen Elsa isn’t exactly what I would call…friendly. They have a solid enough trade relationship, and they do tend to ally when they have no choice but to, but, there’s more than a few islands which Arendale believes belongs to it which Misthaven has claimed as its own  –” she smiles slightly, awkwardly. “I think that if we stay out of trouble, Elsa might be willing to turn a blind eye.” 

Regina’s eyebrow lifts. “Something I should know about you and _that_ Queen?” 

She doesn’t miss the way Marian lowers her head, a smirk playing across her lips. 

“No,” Emma tells her. “We just…I think maybe we understand each other. A little.”

Regina looks as though she’s about to press on that, but then seeing the others looking down at the map reminds her that there are more important issues at hand than her jealousy. 

Jealousy, which she scarcely has the right to possess, if she’s entirely honest with herself. 

“Do any of the three of you have any objections to going around the northern islands?” 

“I don’t,” Booker says, “But I would like to be strategic about our path around them.”

“Very good.” She looks at Emma, then back at Booker. “All right, Swan, it’s time for you to go from helping out to actually learning a trade; you’ll assist Mr. Booker as his new apprentice.”

Emma blinks in disbelief. “You don’t want me down in the galley?”

“Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you would like to do more than just cook for the crew, yes?”

“I do enjoy cooking, but perhaps not all the time so…yes.” 

“And I have been sorely in need of an apprentice for a long time,” Booker tells her.

“Then…I would be honored,” Emma agrees.

“Excellent; it’s settled,” Regina says, and then she’s nodding at everyone, dismissing them. 

Only Emma and Marian stay behind.

Marian gently scolds her with, “You’ve been up far too long.”

“We had decisions to make. Evading Misthaven –“ she sneers in disgust at the insipid name, irritated by how Snow’s dressed up her tyranny with a flowery name. “Is important.” 

“I know, and they’ve been made, and now you need to lie down.” 

Regina scowls at her, but doesn’t put up a fight when Marian leads her back towards the bed. Once Regina is sitting on it, Marian looks up at Emma. “Lucky you, you get a second apprenticeship. I’m sure she’d prefer you checking her out.” 

“You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are,” Regina scolds as she opens the shirt, leaning back slightly to allow Marian access to the still heavily bandaged area on her side. 

“I’m more,” Marian grins, then motions Emma over to her again. “You’ve watched me rather intensely for the last week; you’ve seen me examining and cleaning all the wounds out. The burns are finally starting to show signs of healing, but the poison vents are still pretty tender. We need to keep an eye on them to ensure they don’t start showing signs of a new infection.”

“Okay. So –”

“Give me your hands,” Marian instructs. Once Emma puts them in Marian’s, Marian lifts both pairs up and gently brings them to Regina’s side. “Feel with your finger-tips; you did great work in the cave taking care of her and tending to the injury. This is about tending to the healing.”

“What am I…feeling for?” 

“Anything that feels wrong. A bump where it shouldn’t be. Pain where’s it’s unexpected.” 

Emma’s eyes flicker up to Regina’s, noticing how intensely Regina is tracking exactly where Emma’s hands and fingers are. 

“Feel anything?” Marian asks, after the women have stared at each other for far too long.

“Uh, no…it’s looks and…feels okay?” 

“Just okay?” Regina chides. 

“Regina,” Marian scolds, earning a playful shrug from the other woman. 

“She’s healing,” Emma says softly, her hands warm against Regina’s skin. 

Giving Regina a whole lot of _other_ thoughts.  

“Yes,” Regina agrees. Then frowns, “But I admit, I find myself quite…tired.”

“To be expected,” Marian announces, and then stands to leave. “So we’re going to let you sleep, and Emma’s going to go do her first shift as an official apprentice to the Sailing Master.”

Emma grins, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

To which Regina lazily waves her hand, “Go. Enjoy. I’ll be out in a bit.”

Marian nods, and then she’s leaving, noticeably without Emma, who stays back for a moment. 

“You are healing, right?” she asks, her voice lower, her worry apparent as her hand cradles her belly; Regina has come to recognize it as a sign of anxiety, and thinks about how similar they are. True, Emma is finding comfort from her child, while Regina has always fallen back to the strict posture and obedience training of her youth, but the need for self-control is familiar. 

“I am,” Regina confirms. “It still hurts, and I am very tired, but…I fear you’re stuck with me.” 

“Good,” Emma answers, and then she’s leaning down and kissing Regina, and what she lacks in practice, she more than makes up for in passion and enthusiasm.

“We will finish our conversation from earlier,” Regina promises her, hands on her face.

“I think we already did,” Emma counters. “At least I did. Look, I know I haven’t gone through nearly as much as you have in life, and you might think that that…taints the choices I make, but I don’t believe that. I am on this ship because it’s where I want to be. Here…with _this_ crew and with _you_. You want me to define myself? Okay, fine. When I’m here on the _Jolly Roger_ , I’m _not_ Princess Emma. I’m Emma Swan and that makes me happy. I think we could make each other happy, too. Your choice.”   

And then she turns and follows after Marian.

Leaving Regina with another Emma… _Swan_ …related question to consider.

 

* * *

 

She returns to the darkened cabin hours later with a bowl in her hands, steam rising up from it. The smell is reasonably good, due to the fresh catch some of the crew had pulled up earlier.

“Hi,” Regina murmurs, sitting up in the bed and blinking repeatedly to clear her vision. She turns towards the window, frowning when she sees how dark it is. “Why didn't you wake me?” 

“You needed rest,” Emma answers, and offers her the bowl of soup, taking care not to spill it as she hands it over to her. “You still do if  you’re going to make a full recovery.”

“I’m fine,” Regina assures her, the words so instinctually automatic to her.

Thankfully, after a quick study of her to satisfy her own worries, Emma chooses not to contest her on, instead picking a different area to challenge her on. “Good,” she agrees, smiling brightly. “Because I’d like to finish that conversation now. Since we’re both off-duty.” 

“What’s the hurry?” Regina asks as she sips the soup. “Neither of us are going anywhere.” 

“So you said earlier, but there’s a burn on your side that I put there –”

“I’d be dead if you hadn’t.”

“And when you were in pain, all I could think about was making it stop. That means something.” 

“It means you have a good heart. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.” 

“Are you…are you not interested in…more than that?” Emma asks, looking utterly confused. 

Because earlier, Regina had kissed her repeatedly, and yes, she knows Regina can run hot and cold, but it seems a bit strange for her to question her interest after some of those kisses. 

Regina sighs, and puts the bowl down. With a visible wince (which she quickly waves off), she moves over in the bed, and pats the spot next to her. “Come lie with me,” she requests.   

“Okay?” Slowly, tentatively, Emma moves over to do as requested. These days, more and more, she finds that she leads with her belly, but this bed is comfortable, and though not overly large given the size of a cabin on a ship, it’s big enough to snuggly accommodate both of them. With some effort, she slides next to Regina, leaning up on one elbow to look over at her.

And then Regina leans in, placing a hand on both sides of her face, and kisses her. 

It’s amazing, wonderful, and once again, Emma is confused out of her goddamn mind.

“Your hormones,” Regina says softly, her lips so close. “Are racing out of control.” 

“Yes, but –” 

“And I’m an older woman, and a dangerous one. That’s…attractive.”

“That’s not why –”

“If you just want sex –” 

“No! God, no!” Emma wrenches away, moving faster than her large belly can follow in such a small space, and pitches over the side of the bed …falling flat on her ass.

It’s deeply undignified, and kind of humiliating, but Regina bursts out laughing, and so does she. 

Because this is just a stupid mess.

And Regina is being an obstinate self-defeating idiot and –

Emma stands up, finds her footing, and does a quick mental check to see if anything hurts. 

Good… she feels good.

Her baby kicks her, as if to tell her that she can check off that he feels good, too. 

Looking over at Regina, she says, “You know that we could be good for each other.” 

“What I know is that a fortnight ago, we had no intention of being together and now –”

“I thought about it…” Emma admits, her eyes widening as she realizes what she’s said. Then, deciding that it hardly matters considering everything. “I…I really have been attracted to you since the day I first met you. I just…there was Bae, and then you kept after me and…Regina _,_ please just...let us try to be happy."

Regina lets out a breath, puts a hand out, and pulls Emma back to the bed, bringing her close enough so she can initiate another kiss. One which spirals into many more, breathless moments spent doing this. When they finally part, Regina asks (sounding wonderfully breathless) “You have never been with a woman, have you?” Brow furrowing, she adds, “Queen Elsa?”

Emma gives her a knowing smile. “She and Pinocchio really were just good friends.” 

“Mm hmm.” 

“But…no. Bae was the first one that I did anything more than…touching,” Emma says shyly. She looks away for a moment, seeming nervous. “I think he was going to ask me to marry him.” 

“He was,” Regina confirms. Head tilted, she states, “You don’t want to be married to anyone.” 

“No,” Emma admits. “I just want –” 

“To be free,” Regina says, echoing her own words from long ago, and she almost laughs because of the parallel paths their lives have run.

“Yes. And I want -" and then there's that shy self-depreciating smile again -"I'd really like you to be the one touching me."

Regina smiles wickedly. “Oh, Emma, right now, I’m going to do a lot more than just touch you.”

She starts to lean in, clearly meaning to escalate this, but then Emma puts her hand out to stop her. “Will this hurt you?” Emma asks, so sincere and earnest that it’s almost too much for her. 

It almost reminds Regina of the incredible risk she’s taking – with both her heart and Emma’s.

Eventually, Snow White will catch up to her. 

Eventually, everything will shatter apart like it always does. 

All of that is true, but she’s tired of letting her fears of ‘what’s to come’ take away from all the good things that are now in her life. Maybe she wants to enjoy what’s right here in front of her. What feels like a possibility for hope for her heart and not just another emotional dead-end.

“No, it won’t hurt me.” Regina tells her, hands on Emma’s face. “We’ll be gentle.”

And then she finishes leaning in, and captures Emma’s lips. As they kiss, it’s like the whole world is shrinking down to just them and this room and this moment of theirs. 

The kiss is slow and exploratory, and then needy and urgent and passionate.

Regina says, “Show me you, Emma.”

Emma looks at her, her eyes wide, and yet so intuitive and bright. “Will you show me you?”

Such a loaded, loaded question. 

Regina swallows, the years falling away, leaving a young girl who simply wants love and acceptance.

A place to call her own.

That, she supposes, is its own definition.

Silently, lips slightly parted, she murmurs, “Yes.” 

And then her hands are going up and slowly, she’s removing Emma’s clothes. 

“Beautiful,” Regina says in an exhalation of breath, a hand reaching out to touch, fingers trailing down the expanse of skin in front of her, from throat to breast to hip, stopping only to allow a tracing of her belly, of the life carried within her. “My gods, you are...” 

Emma blinks, tears in her eyes, and then she surges forward for another kiss, even as her own shaking hands start working on Regina’s clothes, her fingers still managing to be nimble as they pull at the buttons of Regina’s blouse, carefully avoiding her wounded side. When she’s bare, and the only thing left on her is the gauze and tape protecting the injuries that Emma had helped to heal, Emma allows herself a moment to just appreciate this. To appreciate Regina, who is stunning in a way beyond any words she has.

She’s nervous, inexperienced, and quite sure that she’s going to do everything wrong, and yet…

…she’s never wanted anything more. 

“Emma,” Regina whispers, fingers tracing her eyelashes. “Are you having second thoughts?” 

She blinks, finding Regina’s eyes; she sees only warmth and longing there.

“No,” Emma replies, and she puts her hands on Regina’s face and kisses her passionately. 

Like there’s an hourglass counting down time, and maybe they don’t have very much of it. 

Like they’re two women on the run, and this probably won’t end well for either of them.

But if that’s the case, well then, at least they’ll have this.

 

* * *

 

“You know,” Emma says softly, her bare back pressed up against Regina’s still wonderfully naked front side, Regina’s arm lightly pulling her in, her nose nuzzled into her neck. “I never thought I’d ever be able to get used to sleeping on a ship. The rocking motion.”

“Mm. Me, neither,” Regina answers sleepily. She’s never been one much for cuddling – having had precious few bed partners who she might have wanted to – and even then, she’d rarely been the one doing the holding; but considering Emma’s state, this seems natural. 

And she’s rather enjoying just lazily stroking her fingers over Emma’s belly. Thinking about the child within her blonde lover, the little boy there growing strong and beautiful. 

“Now, I don’t think I can sleep without it,” Emma continues. 

“Me, neither,” Regina says again, nuzzling into Emma, wondering if she’s going to be able to sleep without Emma after tonight. Hoping that maybe she won’t have to find out. 

Knowing that her life isn’t one that ever works out quite so favorably.

This reality hangs over her – over them – but she finds herself utterly unwilling to ruin this night, by thinking about anything besides the trusting tenderness of this moment. 

The peaceful perfection of it. 

As the ship rocks with the waves, her arms close around Emma, she allows herself to rest.

 

* * *

 

Their subsequent relationship is delightfully romantic, sensual and wonderful in its own weird way, but it’s not exactly what anyone sane would call easy, and perhaps that’s exactly as it should be for them.  They continue to argue almost every day, yet slowly but surely, the arguments become less meaningful, more just bantering and teasing, a casual affectionate familiarity settling in. 

And Emma learns how to recognize when Regina is receptive to her words and when she needs to be absolute in her directives. She watches and she listens, and she starts to hear the subtle differences in tone and delivery, starts to understand when Regina is being a collaborative leader and when she feels like she absolutely has to be equal parts Captain and Queen. She learns how to tell when Regina needs her support and what’s the best way to provide it. Sometimes that way is quietly, just standing with the crew, and sometimes it’s knowing what Regina needs her to say in that moment, knowing the words that will bolster her confidence.

In return, Regina continues to challenge Emma to take chances and to learn new things; it would seem that cartography is just the tip of the iceberg. Though Booker’s apprentice, Regina insists that Emma learn every job aboard the _Jolly Roger_ , even if only in passing.

Regina is still too aggressive at times, too sharp in her training and instruction (especially when it has to do with bluntly presented survival skills), but she tries to be aware of when she’s gone too far, and afterwards, she’s quick to own her behavior. Not always with an apology, because her view on apologies is that they’re just words unless there’s action behind them, so she puts her efforts there instead, trying to show Emma that she really does regret having hurt her.

Every day is work and survival, and every night is lying together, and sometimes so much more. 

Sometimes it’s making love, and sometimes it’s just curling together listening as they tell each other their stories. They’re not always good stories given their not always good lives, but they are real, and they matter, and the intimacy of these nights somehow means more than even the physical.

Not to suggest that the physical isn’t quite an awakening to Emma; she’s a quick study, and it doesn’t take her long at all to figure out what she likes best, and what Regina likes. How to make Regina scream loud enough that she has to find a way to muffle herself.

Emma’s ridiculously proud of herself the first time she does, and her smug confidence almost results in her sleeping on her old bedding. But she’s smiling so brightly, almost impishly, and so Regina pulls her back, looking at her like she’s the sun and the stars all at once. Bringing her close, and breathing into her skin. Murmuring, “My Princess,” even as Emma replies with variations (depending on their level of playfulness) of “My Queen” and “My Captain.”

It’s more than enough, and the rhythm they settle into, even if never easy, is uniquely theirs.

One night, Emma finds herself standing by the rail, looking out at the water. With the wind flickering gently on her cheeks, she rests her hand on her very full belly, humming beneath her breath as she gazes out at the horizon, trying not to think about the future all while doing exactly that. She’s not at all surprised when she hears the tap of footsteps across the wood, and feels arms lightly wrapping around her, a kiss pressed to her neck. She turns her head, lips meeting lips, and it’s just sweet and wonderful and equal parts delicate and passionate. 

Emma sighs out, “Hi.”

“You should be sleeping,” Regina tells her as she turns Emma to fully face her, kissing her shoulder. 

“So should you,” Emma counters, because after all these months, she knows how poorly Regina sleeps. How often she ends up prowling the ship, her sleep disrupted by dreams. Awful dreams that Emma has tried to soothe away, but often with limited success. 

“Perhaps,” Regina agrees. She moves even closer, and they're practically dancing together, swaying beneath the night sky.

There have been other dances here on this ship, some not so long ago, where she'd held herself mostly away, somewhat afraid of connecting. And further back, she recalls watching Leopold and Snow dancing, envious even as she had hated them, because they had been happy and hadn't cared that she hadn't been. It's all different now, though. Everything is.

Still, her voice catching, she asks, “Are you happy?” 

To anyone else, it might seem a random question, but Emma understands it. She recognizes the constant gnawing fear of not being good enough, a pervasive fear that grips Regina. Because it gnaws at her as well, planted deep by those who will never see her as such. 

“More than I ever imagined possible,” Emma assures her, her smile so bright.

Regina’s head dips to Emma’s shoulder again, for a time just resting there. 

“Did…did I say something wrong? Something that would make you think that I’m not?” Emma pleads. “Because –” 

Regina lifts her head. “No, you said everything right.” And then she’s kissing Emma again.

So much emotion pouring in, even if there are other words she's too fearful to say. 

The beauty of it is, Emma doesn’t need her to say them, anyway.

Instead, quietly, arms around each other, they just keep dancing.

 

* * *

 

A month passes, and then two. Regina feels the weight of time in a way she hasn’t for a while. Not just because Emma will be giving birth soon, but because she feels a strange tightening. Like a noose is closing around her neck, and nothing she can do will stop it.

Marian reminds her to try to focus on what’s in front of her, knowing their lives and the many tragedies that have brought this crew together far too well to dismiss Regina’s worries.

Knowing that Snow’s scout ships are out there, looking for them. Ships which they’ve just barely evaded a dozen times, and eventually, their luck will run out. They can only hope the timing is right for that. 

In the meantime, Emma proves to be an incredible apprentice; hard working and greedy for knowledge. Even as she becomes increasingly more uncomfortable due to her pregnancy, she remains dedicated to her daily shifts, eagerly taking on each and every task that she’s given, no matter how miniscule or overwhelming it might be. In turn, Booker raves about her, insisting that she has a natural talent for this work, and every time he does, she beams ear to ear. 

She always looks for Regina when this happens, always look for her dark eyes.

Eagerly finding the soft often-unguarded affection there, and smiling brightly at her in return.

It’s right at the beginning of her ninth month of pregnancy, and it’s while she’s standing next to Booker in his little makeshift office (it’s mostly just a sectioned off area where his maps can spread out freely) looking over maps of the Northern Islands that she feels the pain; sharp and exactly where a heavily pregnant woman does not want to feel that type of pain. Crying out, Emma tumbles to her knees, a hand over her belly as tears quickly leak down her face.

“Get the captain!” he calls out, dropping down beside her. “Easy,” he whispers. “It’ll be okay.” 

But he doesn’t actually know this, because he’s spent his whole life on ships and with maps.

He just knows that this girl is important to his captain, and important to his lover, and over the last few months that she’s been working with him, has become important to him as well. 

There’s the pounding of footsteps and then Regina, Marian, and Smee arrive. 

“What happened?” Regina demands, joining Booker besides Emma. An arm sweeps around her, protective and securing, meant to reassure Emma that everything is going to be okay.

“She just fell,” Booker explains helplessly, looking up at Marian. 

“It hurts,” Emma tells her, hand over her belly. “I think something is wrong with him.”

“Your water didn’t break, right?” Marian asks, and now she’s bending down as well, a hand going first to Emma’s forehead, and then down to her wrist before moving to touch her belly. 

Emma shakes her head. “No. It just hurts.” Her terrified eyes find Regina’s. “I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t,” Regina promises, her hand taking Emma’s, her voice almost a growl.  “Smee –”

“I’ll find us a populated island to make port,” he replies, a knowing dread in his voice. 

There’s no way around this: Emma is family and as rough as these men and women are, they will do anything and everything for one of their own. But…they all know where this will lead.

They all know how this is going to end.

Emma whispers, “No, Regina –”

Because she knows, too.

Regina ignores her protests, nodding sharply at Smee and Booker to dismiss them to their task, and then turns her panicked gaze to Marian. “We need to get Emma back to my quarters.”

Marian nods her agreement, and though Emma is still offering up weak protests, the two women aren’t listening, instead both work together to lift Emma up enough to walk.

To get her back to the room that has become her own.

Once settled on the bed, she groans again, eyes tight with pain.

This seems impossible; the pregnancy has gone unbelievably well. 

Why now?

Why at all?

Because, Regina thinks grimly, as she feels the ship changing course, this is how her life goes.

And she always knew it would go this way.

That won’t stop her from fighting back, though. It won’t stop her from trying to protect Emma.

“I’m here,” she tells Emma, leaning down to kiss her sweaty forehead.

“I’m afraid,” Emma tells her, her blue-green eyes gleaming with tears.

“Don’t be,” Regina insists. “He’s probably just telling you he’s getting ready to be here.”

“Yeah?”

Regina looks over at Marian, who shrugs because she genuinely doesn’t know. 

And then she cups Emma’s cheek, and murmurs, “Yes.”

“You won’t leave me?”

That earns a sad almost wistful smile from Regina. Regina, who knows, that it won’t be her who is likely to be doing the leaving. 

“Never,” she promises.

All the while feeling the noose tightening around her neck.

Knowing that it’s about to strangle her.


	5. Five.

Their options around the Northern side of the kingdom aren’t great; many of the islands are sparsely populated, and the so-called healers there are often untrained hacks who rely on superstition and luck rather than science and training. Reluctantly, they pick a tiny island at the border between Misthaven and Arendale. The plan is to bring the ship as close to the harbor as they can without being spotted, and then send two crew members – Marian and one other– to shore in a dinghy to retrieve a doctor.  

Well, most likely they'll have to kidnap one, because they don’t have time to convince one to come willingly and quickly. Normally, they’d use exorbitant amounts of money and liquor to buy assistance, and more importantly, silence, but there isn’t time for such negotiations; Emma’s in extreme discomfort, and Regina is growing more and more concerned by the minute about her. 

Marian insists the baby might simply be telling them it’s almost time, and that it just may be early contractions that Emma is feeling. She reminds Regina gently that even though she has never done it before, she believes that she can guide Emma through childbirth, but Regina isn’t willing to risk it. She’s not willing to risk Emma.

Herself? Well, that’s another matter entirely.

Which, perhaps, makes this a bad gamble and maybe – 

But Smee insists, “Emma needs help, so we get it for her. That's what we do for our family."

Because he knows that even after all this time, she still doubts herself. 

Still doubts the willingness of others to follow her by choice and not from fear. 

“Don’t worry; we’ll be back in just a few hours with a healer. Emma and the baby are going to be just fine,” Marian promises. Turning away, Marian spots Darin, one of the stronger young men, and signals for him to come with her. She desperately hopes there’s not a need to use brute strength, but just in case, she’s picking brawn and a quick sword to pair with her. As they move towards the edge of the ship, she calls back to Regina, “Keep her relaxed and calm while we’re gone.” 

“I’ll do my best, but please hurry,” Regina urges, as a deep dread fills her; it’s one that she’s unable to define, a fear that’s suddenly twisting her insides in knots and making her heart pound, but knowing it’s there all the same. This clawing gnawing almost certainty that everything is about to go upside down for them.

That everything good is on the brink of being taken away and destroyed.

“We will,” Marian promises, as they begin the climb down to the lowered dinghy. Booker’s waiting for them, steadying the vessel until they can get in. Once settled, Darin grabs the oars as Booker pushes them away from the ship. 

Regina watches Marian and Darin until they’re a good distance away from the _Jolly Roger_ , and then squeezing Smee’s right forearm in gratitude for his unwavering support, she asks, “Can you have a bowl of cold water and some rags sent in?”

“Immediately,” Smee replies.

After another squeeze, she turns and heads to her cabin. Stepping inside, she pulls her pistol and cutlass off and places them on one of the tables, freeing her to settle herself next to Emma comfortably. “Hi,” she murmurs as she turns towards Emma, taking in how exhausted and yet fully aware she appears to be. “How are you feeling?” 

“I feel like shit,” Emma admits, then grimaces at her use of words.

“That’s to be expected. Marian thinks you may be in early labor,” Regina states, crawling in beside her, a hand reaching up to gently rub Emma’s shoulder before leaning in to place a soft kiss atop the flushed skin there. “I lost all my babies, but the last one was far enough along that the healer said it was more of a delivery than a miscarriage. I do remember the…pain being…significant.”

“The pain…it comes and goes,” Emma admits. Then, unable to hide her worry, "Is it too early?” 

“No, I don’t think it is. It’s right around time for him to be saying hello to us,” Regina promises, her hand lifting to cup Emma’s cheek, her thumb tracing against the soft skin there. Her fingers lift, grazing just beneath her eyes, then tracing eyelashes, the reverence in the motion undeniable. “In a few hours, your son will be with us, and he’s going to be amazing. Just like you.”

Emma chuckles, even through the discomfort she feels, smiling at Regina so brightly, the force of it almost overwhelming.

“I think you might love me,” Emma tells her, sounding almost drunk.

The door opens behind them, and Regina holds off on her reply as Smee hands her the bowl with two rags in it, not even slightly fazed by how close Regina is to Emma in the bed. “Is there anything else either of you need?” he asks.

“Just take care our ship and our crew while I’m in here,” Regina instructs, offering him a tired smile of her own, thankful for him in words beyond what she can say.

Thankful for all of them, and still, after all this time, so incredibly puzzled about having any of this. 

“Consider it done,” he assures her.

The door closes behind him, and then Regina’s attention is back on Emma. She soaks a cloth and brings it to Emma’s forehead. She smiles tightly at the sigh of relief from Emma, and murmurs, “Awfully presumptuous, aren’t you, Miss Swan?” 

“To think that might you love me? Maybe, but I know that I love –“

“Shh,” Regina soothes, leaning down to gently kiss Emma’s lips. When she pulls back, Emma is looking at her, her eyes clear and bright, like she understands. Like she knows the kinds of things Regina will always struggle with thanks to the deep wounds within her heart. 

And then she cries out again, her entire face drawing tight with pain. Without even thinking about it, one of her hands reaches for Regina’s and squeezes it hard. When it passes, she’s still breathing hard, and Regina’s hand hurts, but Emma is okay.

“Well, you’re definitely in labor,” Regina tells her wryly, not pulling her hand away. 

“But what if it _is_ too early,” Emma asks again, too scared to catch Regina’s attempt at humor. Instead, her eyes fill with panicked tears, and the hand not holding Regina’s drops down to rest protectively over her aching belly. “What if he’s not ready yet?”

“Emma, I think he’s telling us pretty clearly that he’s ready,” Regina insists, and then she looks around her cabin. “We do need to time your contractions.” She climbs off the bed, and finds the pocket-watch that she often takes when she goes ashore. “We’ll use this." Grabbing the watch, she clocks the time on it, and then subtracts the roughly one minute that’s passed since Emma’s last contraction.

“I’m cold,” Emma announces suddenly. 

“Hang on; I’ll get you another blanket,” Regina assures her, looking around the cabin for one.

“No. You,” Emma requests. “Please?”

“Oh, I see how it is; you just want my body heat,” Regina teases, her smile soft as she climbs back onto the bed, settling next to Emma, her arm wrapping around her, her fingers joining with Emma's and then moving to rest lightly atop her belly. 

“Always,” Emma murmurs, and for a moment, she looks unspeakably sad.

“Emma, what is it? Does something feel wrong? Do you –“

“No. Not…wrong. I mean I don’t know what right feels like, either, but…I don’t think this is wrong. I just…I’m afraid,” she admits. “What if it all goes wrong today?”

“Shh. No, no. Don’t worry about any of that. Nothing is going to go wrong. Everything you’re feeling right now, it will all be worth it when he’s here with us.” 

“Us?” Emma echoes.

Regina blinks, and then stammers out, “I meant... _all_  of us.”

“He’s going to be a lucky boy,” Emma replies, her eyes soft. Looking directly at Regina so there’s no mistaking the meaning in her words, she adds, “To have _both_ of us.” 

“Emma –“ She shakes her head, unwilling to protest Emma’s words because they’re everything she has ever wanted. Instead, she finishes with, “Yes, he will be.”

And then just barely stops herself from looking up and out the window.

Knowing that it’s going to be several hours before Marian and Darin return.

Instead, she lifts Emma’s hand, brings it to her lips and kisses Emma’s knuckles, lingering while she collects herself before asking, “Have you chosen a name?” 

Emma grins impishly over at her. “I have, but you’re going to have to wait for it.”

That earns her a hearty chuckle. “You know how much I hate waiting.”

“My impatient Queen,” Emma murmurs.

“My infuriating Princess,” Regina counters.

For a moment, they just gaze at each other, lost in the comfort of one another. Lost in the comfort of this moment, and the frailness of the hope of it - of a future they both so desperately want together. 

Regina sighs, then, and says, “But I suppose, wait we all must.”

 

* * *

 

Her water breaks three hours later, and she says, “I’ve made a terrible mess of your bed.”

Regina laughs, and replies cheekily, “It’s hardly the first time you have, my dear.”

The crass suggestiveness of the reply is enough to blunt the anxiety which is continuing to run rampant around the ship, the foreboding that’s starting to bleed through. It’s just enough to make Emma smile in response, fingers clutching Regina’s, giving into a compulsive need to be close to her and feel the ferocity of her emotions.

“Do you think he’ll love me?” Emma asks a few moments later, her out of control hormones spinning her through several different emotions in the space of seconds.

“I think,” Regina answers, kissing her on the top of her blonde head. “It’s impossible not to.”

 

* * *

 

It’s late in the afternoon and Emma has been at this for hours, her contractions getting progressively closer together, when they hear Smee yell out, “I see them!”

After a quick look at Emma – who says in an expulsion of air, “I’m fine, go!” – Regina rushes from the cabin, stopping only to grab her sword before she makes her way out onto the deck. She’s nearly vibrating with excess adrenaline as she takes the spyglass and looks out at the water, spotting the dinghy rapidly rowing its way back to them. 

With Marian and Darin and a man with a hood over his head in it.

Not exactly how any of them had hoped to do things, but it will have to do.

Fifteen minutes later, they all come aboard, unceremoniously dumping the man in the hood onto the deck; the first thing Regina notices with gnawing dread in her gut is how small he is. And then as they remove the hood, she understands why. 

Because he’s one of Snow’s disturbingly loyal dwarves – Doc, in this case.

“The Evil Queen!” he squeals, but strangely, he doesn’t seem as surprised as he should be. Scared, but not shocked. 

Darin lifts his arm to slap the dwarf, but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Doc,” Regina says, unable to hide her anxiousness. “How…strangely coincidental.”

Unable to stop feeling the tightening of the noose around her throat.

Turning to Darin and Marian, she asks, “Was this worm really our only option?”

“We asked for a doctor and he was the only one who responded,” Marian answers. 

“I’m sure he was,” Regina murmurs, forcibly reminding herself that Marian’s history with Snow and her obnoxious dwarves is not what hers is – she’d never known Snow beyond the stories, really – and there’s no way she could know how fiercely loyal they are to Snow.

How unlikely they are to ever be away from her side.

Especially this one.

“Is there a problem?” Marian asks, the alarm clear in her voice and her eyes. 

“I don’t know yet,” Regina admits, patting Marian on the shoulder because that’s what a good captain does, and despite her fear, she owes her crew that. To Doc, she says, “I need you to put aside your hatred of me, and remember your love for Snow.”

“I always remember my love for the rightful Queen of this land,” he declares, and Regina sees Marian’s hand move to her sword, like she just figured out what’s causing Regina’s fears. 

She doesn’t know who Doc is – not exactly – but quite plainly, he’s a Snow loyalist.

Regina rolls her eyes at his words; were he anyone besides a man who had been bred for unthinking loyalty, she supposes she’d be outraged, but he is what he is. 

And right now, she hopes that that will help Emma.

Right now, she hopes that her fears are wrong, but even if they aren’t, Emma still needs him.

“You know that the Princess is with us,” Regina reminds him, trying to sound bored.

And failing terribly because her heart is pounding and she’s afraid.

Afraid of how that frail hope of a future with Emma appears to be crumbling.

“I know you kidnapped her,” he states, righteously outraged on behalf of Snow. “You stole her from her proper home and have been doing unspeakable things to her.”

He gets smacked upside the head by Darin for that one.

“Calm yourself,” Regina murmurs, though part of her desperately wants to tell Doc exactly just how unspeakable the things she has been doing to Emma are as of late. 

But no, that’s not for his ears, or really, anyone’s. 

Instead, while trying to affect the most bored tone that she can manage, she says, “Call it whatever you would like to - makes no difference to me. She’s here with us now, and she needs help; I presume that you know that she’s heavily pregnant?” 

“My Queen trusts me with even unfortunate information,” Doc confirms.

“Unfortunate,” Regina repeats, wishing for her heart-ripping magic. But now is neither the time nor the place for such violence; she needs this idiot. “Your princess is about to give birth, you pathetic mewling little worm. She needs your help. Will you give it to her willingly or will I need to chop off your feet to motivate you?”

“I…will do anything for Snow White and her beloved family of heroes,” he babbles out, and she thinks he’s about to cry even as he tries to be brave on behalf of Snow.

“Yes, yes, _heroes_ ,” Regina growls in response, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Anger is making her heart ache and her blood boil. Taking a deep breath, Regina’s eyes close for a moment.  She reminds herself that Emma and her unborn child need this little sycophant. Afterwards, well maybe she can convince Emma to let her drown him. Assuming that any of them are still alive to worry about that, of course.

“Help her,” Regina orders, and then with her sword, she’s gesturing to her cabin. 

Doc doesn’t move for a moment, eyes wide as if he can’t believe any of this, but then Connor is shoving him, and Smee is pulling his sword as well, and somewhere in the middle of all of this, it finally occurs to Doc that he’s on a pirate ship with a hostile crew, and it might not be in his best interests to do anything besides as they ask.

So he nods jerkily, and starts to move, stopped only by Marian halting Regina. “Do we have trouble incoming?” she asks.

“I think we might be,” Regina admits, looking at Doc as if to see if he will tell; for the moment, though, he’s close-lipped. Torture would surely find out the truth, but then Emma would lose out, and she won’t allow that. “Ready the crew. Just in case.” 

“I’m sorry,” Marian says, shaking her head. 

“You did as I asked,” Regina tells her, and then she pushes Doc towards the cabin.

They find Emma in mid-cry when they get there, her eyes wet and wide. 

“Her contractions are about five minutes apart now,” Regina tells him, voice soft as she moves next to Emma, her hand immediately taking Emma’s and squeezing it. “Easy. Breathe through it. One. Two. Three. Breathe, Emma. Everything is all right.” 

This interaction between them puzzles Doc, because as he looks at Emma, who seems tired but not afraid, he doesn’t see what he’d expected to. Everyone knows that the Evil Queen had kidnapped the Princess, and the stories of the terrible things she might be doing to her have spread wildly, but this doesn’t look like that.

This seems like kindness, like Emma, despite her condition, is here willingly.

He watches as Regina endures the crushing hold Emma has on her as she rides out the contraction, Regina’s face pressed right up against Emma’s, cheek-to-cheek. He watches as Emma turns towards her, clearly finding comfort in her.

When the contraction is over, Doc finally greets her with, “Your Highness.” 

Emma’s eyes sweep up to Regina. “You’re putting a dwarf between my legs?”

Doc sputters. “I…”

“Sorry,” Emma apologizes breathlessly. “It’s the pirate in me.”

And then she’s cheekily grinning over at Regina, and even though this situation is stressful and likely to blow up on them before this day is done, Regina can’t stop herself from laughing at Emma’s words because it seems the more tired and in pain Emma is, the more unrefined and in the gutter she is, and Regina utterly adores her for it.  “Believe me, this is not by choice. This is who was…unfortunately picked up.”

“No –“ Emma says, because she, too, understands what his presence likely means.

“I assure you, Your Highness, I have delivered many babies for Her Majesty, the rightful Queen. One hundred and six. Of all the delivering physicians in the kingdom, my fatality rate is by far the lowest.”

“None of those children are near as important as this one is,” Regina tells him, choosing to ignore the blather about rightful rulers. 

“No,” he agrees. Stepping closer to Emma, he says, “I need to…see the condition of the baby and whether it’s time to…push.”

“Do what you have to do, but know that if anything happens to either of them, you won't see sunset."

“Regina –“ Emma starts. 

She’s about to say more when there’s a shout from outside.

“Ship – ships! On the horizon!”

And there it is – the likely terrible payout of all of their fears.

Turning, Regina demands of Doc, “Was Snow White in town with you? The truth or so help me, I will find a way to ensure that your last moments of life are horrific.” 

Smugly brave now that he believes that he’s about to be rescued and that Good will defeat Evil once again, he looks up at her, and says, “The Queen and King and the Commander were in town, waiting for you to slither in. It’s over for you now!" 

Emma lets out a cry of pain, and there just isn’t time for any of this. 

Regina curses, and growls, “Bring my child into the world, you little bastard.” And then she dips in and kisses Emma on the mouth, not hiding her passions for the Princess nor bothering to disguise her feelings for her. “It will be all right.”

It’s only after she's slammed her way out of the cabin, a few seconds later, that she realizes what she said about the impending newborn – how she had called the child hers.

Well, it’s a bit too late to take it back now…not that she wants to do so, anyway.

“Captain!” Marian calls out. “On the horizon!”

It snaps Regina from her thoughts, and she quickly joins Marian and Smee by the helm, then taking the spyglass from Smee and looks outwards. “No,” she murmurs. 

“At least three, by my count,” he concurs. “I think probably more not far off.” 

“Can we outrun them back to deeper waters?”

She hates herself for even asking this. Loathes herself for the cowardice she desperately wants to show right now.

“No,” Marian replies, then gently turns Regina to the left. 

Where another ship has just arrived on the horizon.

“They’re coming at us from every side; they’re going to box us in and trap us.” She runs her hand over her face. “Gods, what have I done? They were waiting for us. We - I - fell right into their trap." 

“They figured we’d need to get medical assistance for Emma eventually,” Marian agrees, her voice dull with the realization that she’d brought the bait back aboard.

“Maybe if I surrender,” Regina suggests, wild-eyed and frantic. “Maybe if –“

 “It's unlikely that would make a difference. Besides, we all made this choice together. So we’ll all face it together,” Marian insists.

Regina looks over at her, unable to hide the swirling doubts that always plague her. The voices that tell her how close she always is to losing everything once again. But Marian is looking back at her and so is Smee, and they’re resolute.

So Regina lifts her head and says loudly, “Prepare to be boarded; prepare to fight.”

 

* * *

 

Labor hurts in a way beyond anything Emma has ever imagined before.

It’s like her body is being split open, which perhaps is an apt description of it. Either way, she’s in agony.

And Doc insisting, “Easy, Princess, it’s almost over,” isn’t helping because she’s fairly sure that he isn’t just speaking about her pregnancy. With her parents and Lucian waiting for them on the island, it occurs to Emma her pregnancy has done the very thing she’d never wanted it to do: become a liability to Regina and this crew.

“Doc,” Emma whispers, between contractions, which are getting closer and closer.

“I’m here,” he tells her. “Don’t fret; you’re going home. We all are. Very soon.”

“This is my home." 

He smiles up at her sympathetically, like he thinks she simply doesn’t understand. Like he thinks maybe she’s just too simple to recognize what her best interests are. It's the bitter story of her first twenty-one years of life…until she’d run away and found this. 

But there isn’t room for such self-indulgent worry because the people she has come to love – the woman she knows she does – are in danger. Everything they all worked so hard to build is now in danger. 

“They’re boarding!” she hears, and her heart sinks, because even if she is only twenty-one years of age now, she knows enough to know how this will end. She knows that she’s going to lose something today.

Tears spill from her eyes, salting her cheeks as the reality of this sets in on her.

Because it’s not something she will lose, it’s _someone_. 

Someone she can’t bear to lose.

“It’s all right,” Doc tells her, like he could ever possibly understand the heartbreak that is currently consuming her. “And I believe it’s time for you to start pushing.” 

“If something happens to her,” Emma threatens, her voice breaking. 

“She’s the Evil Queen,” Doc reminds her. “And your family has missed you.” 

“ _This_ is my family,” Emma manages, and then she’s screaming again.

 

* * *

 

At first, there’s just a handful of Royal Guardsmen who climb aboard, their weapons drawn; but they’re inexperienced and unsure, and the crew is able to fight them off. Slowly, but surely, though, more sweep in, more and more men coming aboard. 

Still, the pirates here are seasoned and accustomed to being outmanned, and so they keep fighting, their swords far more deadly than those of the ceremonial soldiers.

Strangely, though, it seems to Regina after a moment of observation that part of the reason they’re all surviving is what appears to be a bizarre attempt by the invading soldiers to not kill any of them. Instead, whenever a soldier gets the upper hand on a pirate, instead of going in for the kill, they knock them out and bind them. Most likely, Regina realizes grimly, so that they can stage a mass execution at home; a show of force and power for the peasants; a reminder of who the Queen is.

The Evil Queen herself would have made such a move.

What a horrifying shame it is, though, that it’s Snow White who appears to have plans to do so. 

It’s the scream coming from behind her that makes Regina look sharply away from the fight she’s engaged in – one with a sandy haired boy of maybe twenty or so. Teeth grit and grunting, she resorts to an old trick: she hits him in the face with her sword and shoves him back towards Marian, allowing her to take care of him with deadly force. 

Her pirates are fighting for their lives – killing whomever they have to; they all seem to understand that sometimes, the only way they can keep their freedom is with blood. Something they have largely been able to avoid for a very long time, but… 

Emma screams again, and she stops thinking about the deaths of Snow’s soldiers. 

She thinks only of Emma, hoping that her screams are just because of her labor.

But as she heads towards the cabin, she sees a familiar enemy heading that way. 

Sees him disregard the apparent "no-kill" rule by running one of her deck-boys through.

“No,” she whispers, taking two steps forward, but then stops as she catches sight of Booker being thrown to the ground and a sword being placed on his throat; torn between going to Emma or rescuing Booker. 

“Go!” Marian insists. “I’ve got him. We’ll handle it on this side. You take care of her.”

One more look back at her crew, at Marian, and then Regina is rushing for Emma.

 

* * *

 

“Almost,” Doc says softly. “We’re almost there.” 

Emma screams in response, her fingers grasping at the pillow beneath her, desperately wishing for it to be Regina's hand there.

“Push,” Doc urges from his position between her legs. 

“Fuck you!”

“There’s only more push needed, Your Highness,” he insists. “We’re almost there.” 

“If something happens to her, I’m going to rip your entrails out with my teeth!” 

“Push,” he pleads again, far more tentatively this time.

Emma growls, but does as asked, and then she hears a sound. Like a soft slap followed by the sound of a baby crying.

Exhausted, gasping for breath, Emma blinks, and looks down...there he is.

“It’s a boy, Your Highness,” Doc says, holding her son in his arms.

Emma laughs; she hurts so much right now, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here, and he's beautiful and...hers. Eyes wary and tired, she carefully watches as Doc cleans her son off, watches as he cuts the umbilical cord with a small knife, ready to kill if Doc threatens her son in any way. Once he’s finished, she reaches her arms out for her child. “Give me my son.”

Doc is smart enough to know this isn’t an argument he dares to have; stepping close, he places the baby in her arms, allowing her to bring her blanket up over him as she dips her head close to his face, pressing her forehead against his much smaller one.

“Hi,” Emma murmurs as she rocks him, smiling as he quiets immediately, his bleary eyes trying to focus as he looks up at her for the first time. “Welcome to the world.”

“He’s going to make a fine first son,” she hears from the doorway.

Her eyes snap up, and sure enough, there’s Lucian standing there, smiling brightly. 

Like he thinks she’ll be happy to see him there. 

“Shh now. Don’t worry your pretty little head anymore, my sweet,” he tells her, his voice deceptively kind. He steps into the room, smirking as Doc scampers away, cowering to get away from the massive commander. “I’ll accept him as my own.”

Her reaction is immediate and fierce; with the hand not holding the child, Emma reaches behind her to where Regina’s flintlock pistol is lying. Cocking it, she aims it right at his chest. Wryly, she thinks that it must present quite the visual (and absently, inappropriately, wonders what Regina would think of it). “You will never touch my son much less raise him,” she growls.

“Oh, Emma, we both know that’s just not true,” LeCroy chuckles. She sees, then, as he steps closer to her that the sword he’s carrying is covered in blood. He notices her gaze, and shrugs before sheathing his blade. “This unfortunate…misguided adventure is over; it’s time to come home and accept your place in your family. And as my wife.” 

“I will kill you,” she promises. 

He seems almost amused by her. “No, you won’t.” 

“You doubted me before and ended up running away like the coward you are.”

Anger darkens his face. “Haven’t you already disgraced your family – _me_ – enough?”

“Give me time. I’m sure I can make it a whole lot worse for you.” 

The visible anger morphs into a tight smile. “This silliness has gone on too long, Emma. It’s time to return to the ones who love you.”

“None of you know what love is."

“You think the Evil Queen does?”

“ _My_ Queen has shown me more love and respect in the time that I have known her than any of you ever have.” 

“Emma –“

“Take one more step towards me and my son; I dare you.” She aims the pistol at his chest, her eyes like steel. 

He puts his hands up, almost conciliatory. “I know we had a bit of a falling out…” 

“I detest you. And you tried to kill someone I love.” 

"Love," he echoes. His face darkens once more, and then he’s shaking his head, allowing his attempt at wooing her back with charm to fade. “She’s going to die, Emma. You’re going to have to let her go, and realize that your life is going to be with me, and our children.” 

“I have no children with you.”

“You do now. That boy is mine.”

“Leave now or I swear I _will_ kill you.”

He ignores her threat and keeps moving towards her, believing her incapable of it.

“Stop,” Emma replies, finger trembling on the trigger. She starts to pull it. Starts to do something she’s never wanted to do. 

And then he does stop abruptly, mumbling, “No.” as a blade bursts through the front of his chest, blood gushing out.

Emma cries out at almost the same time Doc does as LeCroy slowly falls. 

Revealing Regina standing in the spot where he’d just been, her extracted sword bloody. Saying, “I couldn’t let you kill. And I wouldn’t let him touch you. I promised.” 

Emma lets out a soft sob, the pistol falling from her hand so that it can close around Regina’s as she comes closer, the older woman curling into her for just a moment.  She’ll need to return to the fight soon, but for now, she allows this bit of peace.

With Emma and her newborn.

“He’s here,” Emma says unnecessarily.

“He’s beautiful,” Regina murmurs, a hand reaching out to reverently touch his face.

“Henry,” Emma announces, rushing to get the words out, knowing that they might not have much time left.  

“What?”

“You asked me what I had decided to name him. His name is Henry.”

“Why?” Regina asks, not quite daring to believe the honor being bestowed.

“Because your father was the person who taught you how to love, and since I’ve known you, you’ve taught me how to.” 

“Oh, Emma, I think you have our roles reversed, my dear,” Regina says, forehead to Emma’s.

“Is it okay?” Emma asks, suddenly seeming worried.

“It’s perfect. More than you can imagine. Just as you are.”

"You do love me," Emma tells her, her eyes so clear and direct, no teasing in this.

"I -"

Regina's choked and perhaps finally entirely honest response is interrupted by the sound of nearby fighting, and something slamming against the wall and then – and then a familiar voice. “Where’s Regina?” 

“My mother,” Emma gasps.

“Snow White,” Regina snarls, old anger and hatred creeping into her tone.

“My Queen!” Doc yells. “In here!” 

“You want me to shoot him,” Emma asks her.

“Yes,” Regina replies, before leaning over and kissing Emma, holding her lips there for as long as she can, just tasting Emma, savoring what's likely to be some of their last moments together before the end comes. “It’ll be okay.” 

“Regina, please –“

“Shh. I won’t let anyone hurt either of you.” Her arms slides around both mother and child, bringing them close, and holding them to her. “Ever. I hope you know that by now.”

“You’re part of us, Regina. I hope _you_ know that by now.” 

Regina’s only response is to dip her head in again, creating a semi-circle of her and Emma around Henry, a small perfect family unit.

One she knows she’ll never get to keep.

The door is thrown open, and Regina stands up at the same time that Snow appears in the doorway, light haloing behind her as it always seems to do. She looks older now, somewhere in her forties with gray hairs just beginning to show themselves.

But she’s colder, too – her green eyes piercing and angry.

“Snow,” Regina greets, blocking her view of Emma and Henry. 

“Why did you come back, Regina?” Snow demands, a sword in her hand. Behind her, there’s the clashing of blades, a sharp cry and then the sound of someone falling.

“Why did you come here, Snow?” Regina counters.

“She’s my daughter.” Snow answers, bending to check the body at her feet, frowning when she realizes that it belongs to LeCroy. “Another murder to add to your thousands.”

“He was a son of a bitch who you were willing to force your daughter to marry even though you knew she didn't want to."

“He was a good man who would have loved her and provided for her." 

“As good a man as your father was,” Regina retorts, hatred making her eyes gleam. "And we all know how that turned out."

“Enough of this. Step aside and let me get to my daughter and grandchild.”

“Too much time has passed if you think I’d just let you take her away from me,” Regina challenges with a humorless laugh. “Have you already forgotten what I’m capable of?”

“Oh, I know, but I don’t think you know what I’m capable of anymore, Regina.”

“No, I suppose not. What happened to you?” Regina asks. “You won.”

“No, I lost. Too much. And realized that I allowed all of that to happen by showing you mercy. By showing mercy at all. That won’t happen again. I’m stronger now.” she says, holding her chin up, her green eyes cold and dangerous.

Everything about the girl from so long ago consumed by hatred, fear and power. 

How horribly familiar, Regina thinks grimly.

“This isn't strength,” Emma says suddenly, and then she's pushing herself to her feet, Henry cradled in her arms.

Regina shakes her head desperately, trying to stop her, trying to stop this. “Emma –“ 

“It’s all right, Regina; I’ve got this.” She turns towards her mother. “Mother.”

“Emma,” Snow breathes, the darker emotions bleeding away for a moment. “He –“

“Is _my_ son,” Emma tells her. “He’s everything to me.” 

“Just as you are to me,” Snow tells her. “I would do anything for you.”

“Then understand that I don’t want to go back with you. I want to stay here.”

“Well, that’s out of the question,” Snow snaps back.

“I know,” Emma agrees. “Because my life is not my own. It belongs to you.”

“I only want what’s best for you, Emma. And it’s not being anywhere around her.” 

“I love her, Mother. She’s who I want to be with. Who I want to raise my child with."

Her eyes dart to Regina “What have you done to her?” Snow demands of her. 

“She did it to me,” Regina defends, eyes wet as she looks over at Emma, suddenly wanting to say so much.

“To you? No, you put a spell on her and–“

“You stole my magic, Snow. You bound it to your life, knowing that I have never been able to take it and likely never will. You know there's nothing I could have done to her because you made sure of it. So this is what I have now. These people, this ship, Emma. "

Hearing her oldest enemy lay claim to her daughter snaps something in Snow. Stepping forward, she moves right up in front of Regina, the coldness of her eyes making Regina wonder if this is what Snow had once seen in hers many years ago when it had been she, as the Evil Queen, tearing everything apart. “Very soon, Regina, you won't have any of that. Soon, you'll have nothing at all. Which is what you deserve." Snow states. "Once this silly battle is done, we'll take all of your... _people_ back to my castle where they will be -"

“Stop! I’ll go back with you,” Emma babbles out suddenly, forcing her mother’s attention back onto her instead of Regina. Knowing that this is the only way to save Regina; knowing that she has to do this. Even if breaks all of their hearts.

"You'll come back willingly?" Snow asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Emma, no,” Regina pleads.

“Trust me,” She urges before turning to Snow. “Yes, I will. But on one condition. Their lives.” 

“They’re pirates, Emma. Her pirates. What message would it send to spare them?” 

“I don’t care about your messages or your need to show how all-powerful and Good you are,” Emma spits out. “And right now, neither should you. The only thing you should care about is me. Try to pretend that you do.” 

Snow visibly bristles at that, glaring over at Regina. Seeming to realize that even in the victory she’s about to gain, she’s still lost. 

Finally, her tone seething with a hatred she doesn’t bother to disguise, she says, “Tell your men to stand down, Regina, and we’ll negotiate a less deadly surrender.” 

“No,” Emma says again. “No surrender. Just an end to the fighting and…I leave with you, and you let them go.”

“Why would I concede that much?” Snow demands. “We’re going to win here.” 

“Because those are my terms. I will come back and play the good daughter for you. I’ll be the perfect mother for my son so that you can be the perfect grandmother, loved by all the people you so benevolently oppress. I’ll even lie and pretend that none of this ever happened, but for that to happen, I demand their lives – their freedom. Or you can refuse and I'll fight with them to the death."

“Emma, _please_ ,” Regina says again, tears on her face.

Snow looks over at her, shaking her head. “I can’t just let the Evil Queen go again.” 

“She’s not the Evil Queen, anymore,” Emma insists. 

“No matter what stories she has told you, Emma, she will always be that. Always.” 

There’s a shout from just outside, and another clashing of swords.

Clutching Henry closer to her, Emma looks up at Snow and says quite calmly, “I think that was my father who just yelled. Would you risk his life for her death?” 

“Would _you_ risk your father for her?” Snow queries, disbelieving. 

“You once told me you would do anything for love. He once told me he would suffer any pain to protect the ones he loves. So...yes."

“She’s twisted your heart and your mind,” Snow states, desperation and disbelief vividly coloring her tone. “Somehow she still found a way to dark magic and did this to you.”

“You know she didn't. And you know my terms, Mother. Do you accept them?” 

Snow’s eyes find Regina’s and then they’re just staring at each other, their tragic history playing out in front of them, repeating and warping. Finally, teeth grit, Snow hisses, “I do. I’ll call off my men if Regina calls off hers.”

“Promise me that there will be no tricks."

“You don’t trust me?”

“You’re about to break my heart, Mother; you’ll excuse me if my trust for you is low.” 

“You have my word. What about her?” Snow demands. “Why should I trust her?” 

“Because I do.” She reaches up and touches Regina’s face. “Please. No more.”

Regina’s response is a ragged half-sob, and then, putting one hand over the one Emma has on her face, she drops the other one down to touch Henry, tracing her fingers over his face, knowing this might be the last time she ever sees or touches him.

This perfect little pirate prince who might have been hers…theirs.

Then, forcing all the emotion back inside, she turns and walks out onto the deck, yelling “Enough! Stand down!” A moment later, Snow does the same. Leaving two sets of combatants looking confused and uncertain, if a bit relieved.

“We’re leaving,” Snow announces. “With Emma. She’s coming home with us.” 

David appears, bleeding and bruised, an arm against his chest. “Where’s Lucian?” 

“Dead. Murdered."

“And we’re just –“

“Leaving Regina behind? Yes. She and her crew get to live to see another day.”

“Why? Snow, you remember what happened last time you showed –“

“This isn’t mercy,” Snow snaps, and David retreats. Her voice softens, but it’s not at all apologetic. “This is a negotiation. Emma negotiated for their lives.”

“Oh,” David says, eyes flickering from his daughter to Regina and then back. Noticing how silently devastated Regina appears to be.

How heartbroken Emma is.

He pushes these thoughts away, refusing to dwell on them, focusing only on the same thing that has driven all of them since the day they’d defeated the Queen so many years ago: protecting their family and their kingdom against the threat of future evil. 

It’s brought them peace, and for that, they will do almost anything.

Even the unthinkable, no matter how horrible and devastating it might be. 

“Emma, take our grandchild, and go with your father onto our ship.” 

“Not until all of your men are off this one.” 

Snow smiles grimly. “They’ll be going with you. Only I’ll be remaining behind.”

“Snow!” David protests.

“Only for a minute, my love. Regina and I have a few final things to say to each other.”

“Captain?” Smee asks, standing beside Regina. “What do we do? Do we fight?”

“No. We live,” Regina replies dully, and wonders what that word even means, anymore.

And then she moves forward, and crosses over to Emma. Maybe it’s undignified and all of her pirates will think less of her for this (she doesn’t care what Snow’s men think of her), but this whole thing is tragic and wrong, and she will be damned if Emma doesn’t know exactly how she feels  about her. Her hands find Emma’s face, and drawing her closer (though still being mindful of where Henry is, and ensuring she doesn’t crush him), she kisses Emma with everything within her.

The passion, the love, the heartbreak and the need. 

The simple softness within her heart that exists because of Emma. 

The understanding that this is the last of them, that frail hope wrenched away. 

“I love you,” she murmurs, lips next to Emma’s. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

“I love you, too, Regina,” Emma replies. “My Captain. _My_ Queen.”

“Maybe one day, tell our little Henry a good story about me,” she asks, offering up a watery smile.

“Every day,” Emma promises, and then leans up and kisses Regina, just as fiercely. 

Trying to say that maybe their story isn’t over, maybe one day they’ll tell it again.

Regina doesn’t dare to hope again, can’t allow her heart the risk of that. 

So slowly, tears on both of their faces, they step back from each other. Hands and fingers lingering in the touch until they can no longer reach each other. 

“I’m ready,” Emma finally states as she turns to look at her parents, her voice cold.

“David, go with her,” Snow instructs. “I’ll be along in just a few minutes.”

“If you hurt her –“ Emma starts; in the same moment, Henry starts to whimper.

As if he can feel his mother’s heartbreak.

“I made you a promise, Emma. You made one, too.” 

David places a hand on her elbow. “Come on,” he urges. 

“I won’t forgive either of you for this,” Emma tells him, and then Henry’s crying.

His wails lifting into the air, providing a horrible backdrop to all of this devastation. 

“I know,” he agrees, and then he helps her off the _Jolly Roger_.

Leaving Regina and Snow to stare at each other. 

“We should finish this in private,” Snow suggests.

“You can say what you need to say right here.” 

“As you wish,” Snow agrees, stepping forward. “You lost, Regina. It’s over.”

“You’ve said that before.” 

“Mm,” Snow hums, smiling coldly. “This time it really is over. You see, I promised my daughter I wouldn’t harm you and I won’t. _Today_. But your free pass ends in twenty-four hours so if you’re still in this realm then, every ship in this fleet will converge on you and they will slaughter you and your crew. My daughter will never know because they will sink your ship and dump all of the bodies into the ocean. Well, except for yours. Yours will be returned to me and then burnt like the witch that you are. That way, I will know for sure – once and for all – that you can never harm me or my family ever again.”

“I did this to you, didn’t I, Snow? I destroyed everything good inside of you.” 

“Oh, no, I still am good. I’m just –“

“Hurting your own child because you can. You can’t possibly believe that’s _good_.” 

“I’m protecting her.”

“Tell yourself whatever you’d like, but this…you thought I was terrible. Evil. This is beyond that. Your fear and your hatred of me have twisted you into _my_ mother.” 

The look that passes across Snow’s face is hurt and outrage, but it fades quickly. 

Morphing into something that looks a whole lot like righteous resignation.

“I’m doing whatever I must to protect and provide for my family.” 

“That's what my mother used to say, too. So I'll tell you this: breaking your daughter’s heart isn’t protecting her, Snow.” 

“Soon,” Snow promises. “Her heart won’t be broken.”

“Why? Are you going to throw another abusive prick at her?”

Snow stiffens, her head lifting up, her eyes piercing. “Emma’s future is no longer your concern. The only thing that should matter to you now is getting your crew to safety. Far away from this realm. And just in case you think to return, I would suggest against it. You’ll find Emma not as receptive for one –“ she opens her hand when she says this, showing Regina a small vial with a bluish gold fluid in it. "A gift to save Emma's heart and soul courtesy of the Blue Fairy."

“You wouldn’t dare,” Regina breathes as it occurs to her what's in the vial. “She’s your daughter.”

“She is, and as a mother – something you will never be – my job is to protect her at all costs. I won’t lose her. Not to you, Regina. This will ensure that.”

“By raping her mind?”

“By removing all memory of this…mistake of hers.”

“You’re destroying her.” 

Snow takes two steps towards Regina, so they’re face to face. “I’m saving her. I'm helping her be strong. That's what a mother does."

“Gods, you really have become every bit the monster that I ever was, and then some, haven’t you?”

“I suppose you would know best.”

“I would,” Regina agrees, the words barely audible.

Snow steps back, then. “Apart and side from Emma, you should know that there will be a permanent warrant out for you, the reward for your capture beyond your imagination. And the fairies will set up warning nets to alert us the moment you return. All of this will guarantee that for as long as I live, you will find no safe harbor anywhere in this land. So…run away, Regina, and never return.”  

Snow turns to walk away, her heels loud on the boards.

"Snow," Regina calls out, waiting for her to pause. "It took me a long time to believe it, but now I know...love is strength. You more than anyone have always understood that. Please... _please,_ don't take that way from her."

She means to say "away from me" as well, but chooses not to.

Not that it matters; Snow turns her head, and looks back at Regina, "No, loving _you_ is weakness."

Her steps echo against the planks, but Regina doesn't hear them.

Because everything is dimming, and going ashy and gray around Regina, the dark shadows crashing in on her in even as her crew watches, wondering if this will finally be what breaks their captain. Her knees wobble, and for a moment, she thinks that yes, it will be. 

But collapsing isn't what she does; it's not who she is, and though her heart has been shattered, she stays standing, defiant.

All the while listening to the fading sound of a baby crying as a ship sails away.

 

* * *

 

It’s several hours later when Marian and Smee finally approach her as she stands next to the edge of the _Jolly Roger_ , her arms wrapped around herself as her bloodshot from crying (privately) eyes gaze out at the empty blue water in front of her. Silently, they each take a position around her, flanking her in a show of support.  She murmurs, “I failed all of you.” 

“No,” Marian contests. “I brought the dwarf back to the ship. I took the bait.”

“On my order. Because I left us vulnerable to them thanks to my…feelings.”

"Our feelings are what make life worth living," Marian argues. "And...we all adored Emma, too."

“Whatever you want to do next, Captain, we're with you,” Smee says, puffing himself up.

Regina turns to look at them, confusion on her face. “Whatever I want to do?”

“If you want us to stage a rescue –“ 

Regina laughs bitterly, her dark eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “Do you remember that vial that Snow showed me?” Off their nods, she continues with, “It’s a memory potion. Once Emma drinks it, within a matter of minutes, every memory she has of me, every memory she has of the last year will be taken away from her. They will tell her what she needs to know, tell her what she remembers, and she will believe it to be true because she doesn’t have anyone there to say otherwise. They will tell her who she is, and she won’t know that she became someone more than that. Someone stronger and braver than she could ever imagine. She won’t _know_.”

“That’s horrible,” Marian breathes, eyes wide.

“The most fool-proof way to ensure Emma thinks of me with only fear and hatred.” 

“Her heart will know better,” Marian insists.

“Perhaps it will, but we won’t be around for that.” She nods jerkily as if convincing herself of something terrible, and then she lifts up her head and looks directly at her two truest companions. “Every part of me wants to go back for her; every single part of what’s left of my heart and soul wants to bring her back and find a way to reverse what was done to her. I have these absurd thoughts of a True Love Kiss, but… but that’s a suicide mission, and I owe you all more than that. My selfishness brought us to this place. I forgot my past, forgot what I owe all of you. I won’t forget that again.”

“Regina –“

“Captain,” Regina corrects, but there’s no recrimination behind it. Merely, it’s an attempt to reset the expectations for both them and herself. To remind them all that she has a role in this life of theirs, and it’s not to find happiness of her own.

She ignores the worried looks that Smee and Marian share.

Instead, her eyes drift back towards the horizon. “Mr. Smee, fetch our bean.”

“Where are we going, Captain?” Smee asks, straightening up.

“Back to Neverland; I believe that we have some unfinished business there.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he replies, and then he’s moving away, leaving her with Marian. 

Who promptly says, “You deserve happiness, too.” 

“Not at the expense of others. I’ve spent most of my life failing to learn that lesson, and I think maybe it’s time I stop. It’s time that I take responsibility for my sins.”

“She loves you,” Marian tells her, before saying again, “Her heart will know.”

Regina smiles thinly. “You know, I had this stupid wonderful dream; I think maybe it even became a hope, after awhile. It was silly, because children don’t belong on a pirate ship, but I saw Emma and I raising Henry together here. I saw him running around, curious and eager like his mother and so very happy, giggling all the time.” She laughs at the thought of this, equal parts heartbroken and wistful. “I saw him reaching up for me, and me holding him in my arms as he called me ‘momma’. I saw myself as his mother.”

“Maybe, one day –“

“No. No more maybes. It’s time to move forward. It’s time for _me_ to forget that any of this ever happened.” 

“It happened,” Marian argues. “Emma loved you –“ 

“Loved. Past tense thanks to what Snow has done to her.” 

“Where it matters most - in her heart and yours - she still loves you. I believe that she always will.” 

“But it doesn’t matter,” Regina insists, the tears finally falling. She wipes them away angrily before softly adding, “Not anymore. The only thing that matters now is –“ 

“ _Us_ ,” Marian answers for her, her voice resolute and unwavering.

A declaration of loyalty and friendship being made. 

A promise of family persisting even in the face of so much heartbreak and loss.

Regina looks at her for a long moment, inclines her head, and says, “Yes.” 

“So onwards, then?”

Regina looks out at the water again, as if searching for a ship she knows is long gone now, as if looking for the fiery girl she knows won’t be there, and as if hearing the cry of a baby she believes she’ll never see again. 

“Onwards,” she commands. “To Neverland.”

Swallowing through the bitter irony of her words.

And well, that's just the tragic story of her life, she thinks, and keeps staring out at the water, allowing it and the portal which closes around her and the _Jolly Roger_ to sweep her away from yet another once wonderful, but now broken dream.


	6. Epilogue.

**FOURTEEN YEARS LATER.**

 

She’s asleep when it happens. 

Resting after yet another day spent harassing Pan, Regina is slung across her bed, a blanket tangled around her legs, her arm over her eyes to block the eerie moonlight of Neverland. The stories have always portrayed pirates as the foil to the impish but heroic Peter Pan, but the truth is, he’s a child-stealing demon (the belief is that he’s looking for a particular boy; supposedly a drawing exists of him, but no one has ever seen it), and the brave if rough crew of the _Jolly Roger_ are the resistance, intent on disrupting his plans at every turn. 

Her goal – the mission which has carried her through the last fourteen years - has been to save children from him, each one a memory of Henry, a boy she has never met, and likely never will; all she knows is that she loves him as much as she still loves his mother.

Well, no one has ever claimed that she loves in moderation.

In any case, it's the magic - the dual smells of pine and lavender filling her nostrils - which wakes her. 

It’s been almost thirty-five years since she’s felt magic within her blood, and feeling it return to her here in the middle of Neverland is almost too much to bear. It feels like a fire boiling through her bloodstream; she screams in agony.

No one comes for her; her crew is used to her nightmares, aware that their captain is plagued by many things both seen and unseen. They’re gracious and kind enough to always pretend they don’t know how much she still struggles to find new way to survive every day, because when it matters, she always chooses them. Just as she had fourteen years ago when she’d broken her heart to save them.

But none of that is on her mind, because right now she’s screaming as the magic burns through her. Desperately looking for a way to make this terrible pain somehow stop, she staggers to her feet, stumbling out of the cabin and out onto the deck, looking half-mad.

“Captain?” she hears from somewhere around her.  “What’s wrong?”

She looks around wildly, instinctively searching for water to cool the fire burning within her; her eyes find the railing of the _Jolly Roger_ , her mind reminding her that there’s an ocean full of relief just beyond it. Frantic, she moves towards it, ignoring the frightened shouts from behind her, ones which get louder when she suddenly bursts into what appears to be flames, the fingers of it oddly translucent. 

She's not actually burning, but it damn well feels like she is.                                                                                                        

She hears her name being called – likely Marian – but all she wants to do is stop the pain, and so she runs over to the side of the _Jolly Roger_ and hurls herself into the water. It’s undignified and terrifying, but the moment her body thumps splashes into the water, she’s better. The burning stops; the flames disappear. Exhausted, but thankfully no longer in agony, Regina slowly bobs her way back to the surface of the murky water, slowly trailing her arms to stay afloat.

“Captain! Are you all right?” Smee calls down to her.

“I’ve been better,” she admits, now just feeling terribly drained. “But if someone could help me up before our mermaid ‘friends’ show up, that would be lovely.” She swims to the side of the ship, and reaches up her hand, allowing Booker to pull her up onto the deck. 

“Easy go,” Booker murmurs, draping a blanket over her soaking wet shivering form; it’s almost blisteringly hot out here, but thanks to her magic, she’s quite cold. 

She lightly taps his arm in gratitude, then, clutching the blanket tightly around her, turns to face Marian and Smee. “I need a word in private with you two.” 

“First: are you okay?” Marian queries, because the crew needs to hear this. After all they've been through together, she's their leader in more than just title. She's the one who guides them and has put her life on the line for them repeatedly; they look to her for strength.

Regina sighs, supposing they will all know sooner or later, anyhow. “I am…now. It would appear my magic has returned.” As if to demonstrate, she flicks her hand and after a bit of hesitation, a weak orange flame appears in the center of her palm. Immediately, members of the crew move forward as if to help her, but she waves them off, curling her hand into a fist and making the fire disappear.

“My Gods,” Marian murmurs. “Does that mean –“

“Yes, it means that…” Regina’s eyes drift outwards to the water, her mind as turbulent as the waves of Neverland as they crash towards Pan’s island. She allows a few seconds to collect herself, to bring her thoughts to heel before she forces herself to say the words that make her heart surge with raw emotion – the ones that she knows will once again change everything for her. “Snow White is dead.”

 

* * *

 

She’s standing in the middle of her quarters, the blanket still around her despite the humid air outside of the cabin, sipping from a cup of tea, as she tries to help Smee and Marian understand what had just happened. Her voice occasionally cracking with emotion even she can’t explain, she reminds them that her stolen magic had been tethered to Snow’s life, which means that upon her death, the magic had been freed to return to its original owner. And since magic knows neither realm nor time, it had found its way back to her.

“If it’s…friendly, then why did it seem like it was hurting you?” Marian asks. 

“Because thirty-five years is a very long time, and as much as my magic recognized me, I’m not sure that I quite recognized it, anymore. But now it’s…home again.” 

“You make it sound like it’s alive,” Smee notes, seeming disquieted. That’s not surprising; this crew has always known who she had once been, and some of them had even come across her from time to time as the Evil Queen, but most of them know very little about the magic she once possessed. Most of them only know the magic that Pan hurls at them, and they view it with considerable disdain. 

“It’s part of me,” Regina murmurs, frowning as she looks down at the teacup. She takes another sip from it, feeling the heat of the liquid warming her cooled middle. She’ll have to get used to this again, the constant chill that accompanies magic.

“ _Are_ you okay?” Marian queries. “I mean…physically?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Regina promises. “Some unusual…biological changes, but I’ll adapt.” 

“Good, then let’s talk about the other thing you’re thinking about right now: Emma.”

“I’ve never stopped thinking about her,” Regina admits, exhaustion giving way to stark honesty. Her hand lifts to weave through hair, which has grown longer again while in Neverland. “I fall asleep thinking about her, I dream about her, and then I wake up thinking about her. I wonder what she’s doing. What Henry is doing. How they are. If she’s with someone…better than me. If she’s happy.”

“Pardon me for saying so, Captain, but couldn’t you find out now?” Smee asks. 

“He’s right,” Marian agrees. “With Snow dead, the Enchanted Forest probably has bigger concerns now than you right about now.” 

“Probably. But Emma still won’t remember who I was to her. We’ve been away for a very long time –“ she laughs bitterly. “I don’t even know how much time has passed for her. She could be an old woman now.” 

“I don’t think we’ve been here that long,” Marian counters. 

Regina shakes her head. “I won’t repeat past mistakes. I led with my heart last time, and all of you almost lost your lives because of that. I won’t take that risk again.”

“We’re pirates,” Smee reminds her with a chuckle. “We nearly die every single day.”

“We do,” Regina concurs, as she glances out the window, clearly deep in thought. Finally, finding resolve, she looks back at Smee. “How many beans do we have with us?”

“Two now,” Smee tells her. “But one more should be along in a few short months.” 

“What are you thinking?” Marian queries.

“I’m thinking that you might have a point: I have to know. Snow is dead, and my gut is telling me that David is as well; Emma could be in terrible danger. Even if it doesn’t lead to…anything between us, I need to know that she and Henry are okay.” 

“Then –“

“On the other hand,” Regina interrupts, “She could be Queen Emma now.” 

Neither Marian nor Smee miss the shadow that crosses Regina’s face at these words, the sudden paling that reveals much darker and more fearful thoughts. “You’re afraid that if she is the Queen, her mother’s vendetta will pass down to her,” Marian surmises.

“She doesn’t remember what we were. She doesn’t remember that she once thought me more than just the Evil Queen. All she knows now are the stories she’s been told, and I can promise you that if they were dreadful before, they’re much worse now.” 

“Perhaps, but I believe that her heart will know you."

Regina laughs again. “Based on what, Marian? Fairytales from our homeland? Ones that never favored us and never spoke kindly of us? Why should we find hope in those?”

“I don’t,” Marian states, as bold as ever. “I find hope in what I saw every day between you and Emma. I find hope in the way the two of you made each other stronger. No matter what her mother said to you,"

“And now, Snow White is dead, Captain,” Smee reminds her, his tone gentle.

“Yes, and that…it changes everything, but, the elephant in the room is that we don’t know if Emma is even alive,” Regina argues, her hand resting over her heart when she says these words, unspeakable pain surging at even the thought of this. 

“You’d know,” Marian says quietly. Then louder, “So what is our plan, Captain?”

Regina looks back down at the teacup, conflicted and uncertain (after all, who is to even say that what they had together was ever strong enough for this desperate hope of hers), but then drawing back her shoulders, and reminding herself of the courage that had once allowed her to take that step forward with Emma and to then let her go because it was the right and selfless thing to do, she says, “Not ours; mine. I’m going back to the Enchanted Forest. But I’m going alone this time.”

“Captain,” Smee immediately protests.

“This is not up for discussion. I will not put our crew at risk for my heart.” 

“You’ve protected ours repeatedly,” Marian tells her, thinking of thirty-five years spent with this woman, and how over that time, she’s safeguarded the hearts and lives of every man and woman aboard the _Jolly Roger_.

“It’s not the same thing,” Regina insists.  

“Emma was part of this crew. Part of this family,” Smee presses again. "We'd like her back, too."

“I know, but we don’t know what - who - she is anymore, and I won’t take the risk of there still being a warrant out for all of us there back in the Enchanted Forest or whatever it’s called. My job is to protect all of you, and that’s _exactly_ what I’m going to do.” 

Marian scowls, but she knows this woman, who has become a good friend over the years, and she knows when Regina is intractable. “So what will you do?”

“I’m going to take one of the beans, and I’m going to go back to the Enchanted Forest and find Emma, and hope to whatever entity gives a damn that I get through to her.” 

“And if you can’t? You won’t have a way back to us,” Marian reminds her.

“I’ll leave you with a bean so you can get away from here if need be. I’ll take the plant with me. If Emma remembers me and still wants…something, then maybe I’ll have some quiet time with just her and Henry before we come back. If that’s not what she wants –“ her voice catches, her hand once more covering her heart, her expression broken. “Then I’ll hide until the bean matures and return.” 

“You have to know that this is a terrible plan.”

“Perhaps, but it’s the one I’m going with. Smee, the ship is yours until I return.” 

“I don’t like this,” he declares, echoing Marian; they really are obnoxious pains in the ass. Insubordinate, challenging pains. But _hers_ , she muses affectionately.

“I’ve given this crew everything in me," Regina pleads. "If I don’t do this –“

“You don’t have to explain that part. Your crew supports you. _We_ support you,” Marian tells her. “Always. We’re just…worried that we won’t see you again.” 

Regina steps towards both of them, reaching out to put a hand on both of their shoulders; she doesn’t quite bring them in, but she squeezes down, making sure that they feel the warmth of the contact, ensuring that they understand what she is trying to say to them in more than just words. “I don’t know what will happen next, but I do know that of every place I have ever laid down my head, this is the only one that has ever felt like home. As long as I draw breath, my intent will be to return here.” 

Marian takes a deep breath, and then says, “What can we do to help you get ready?”

"You know," Regina notes. "I don't even know if his name is still Henry. Snow might have forced her to change that, too."

Her eyes find Marian's, for a moment so raw and pained by all that she's lost and the fear of what else she could lose.

"No matter his name, he's still Emma Swan's son," Marian tells her. "And I have to believe that that's all that matters." 

“Okay," Regina agrees. "Prepare me for a fight.”

 

* * *

 

Five days later, dressed in leather pants, with an emerald green jerkin over a white cotton shirt (it's very early Fall in the Enchanted Forest now, starting to get crisp, but still somewhat warm), Regina appears in the stables of the land she’d long ago grown up on. To her surprise, it looks much the same as it had the last time she’d been here so many years ago, when she’d forced Snow to eat the poisoned apple. She’d assumed that Snow might have had it burnt down, removing yet one reminder of their past.

Their damaged, terrible and now forever unforgivable past.

Not that she thinks she could have forgiven Snow after what she’d done to Emma.

Maybe, before that, there’d been a distant if unlikely chance for them… 

She shakes her head, reminding herself that this isn’t a thought worth having. 

It’s not a regret worth allowing. 

She turns in a full circle, taking in all of the memories, seeing all of the walls. 

For a moment, she thinks she sees Daniel on the ground, eyes vacant and glassy.

She wonders what Mother is doing now, if she’s still in Wonderland, still lost behind the looking glass; once she had considered murdering the woman, but her hesitation had started her downfall. She’d stopped Hook from going after Mother, ultimately choosing to leave her alone in her insane kingdom. One bit of hesitation had led to another, and then Regina had found herself running out of time and desperate. Her father had paid the ultimate price for that, because even then, even as she ripped his heart from his chest, she had known that she no longer wanted to cast the curse. Still, pushed up against the proverbial wall, she had tried to do it, anyway, and failed terribly. Snow and Charming had caught her, and Snow had stripped her magic away, tearing it from her by violent force.

But that’s all over now; Snow (and perhaps Charming) is dead and Regina’s magic has been returned to her. Finally, after all this time, she’s whole again. Oh, but not quite, because she's missing a piece of her heart, perhaps several pieces. 

Regina runs her fingers across the wood of the door, thinking about how she walked in here many years ago, so much hope in her heart as she ran into Daniel’s arms, believing their future was right in front of them. When she had left, everything had shattered, and she’d been irrevocably changed for the worse. Now, so many years later, who is she? What is she?

She supposes that it’s time to find out. 

 

* * *

 

There’s a little tavern not far from where she’d grown up. As a teenager, her father had often brought her there, the two of them giggling about what Mother didn’t know. Now, it’s quiet and subdued, full of fishermen and traveling salesmen. 

Wearing a cloak to hide her identity, she slips into a booth, head down, quietly ordering the darkest ale they have. The barmaid looks at her with narrowed eyes, like she recognizes Regina (could Snow’s alert-for-reward system or the fairies security net have really been that good?) but then she’s shrugging and wandering away, and Regina slinks down so she can just listen. 

Drunks will always tell the story you need them to if you wait long enough. 

True to form, two men wearing the clothing of minor dukes meet at the bar, boisterous in their greeting, but then somber as they start to talk about the recent turmoil within their kingdom– murder, one says breathlessly, confirming for Regina that Charming had indeed followed Snow into death. “Can you believe that she returned and finished what she started?” 

Dread fills Regina at these words because historically, little has filled others with the kind of scandalized histrionics that these men are engaging in except for her former self. 

“Aye,” the other man says. “I wonder where she took the princess.”

“You remember all those stories from before?” the first drunk asks. “The ones about how our new boy king came to be? The King and Queen always insisted that the father was some heroic soldier –“ 

“That ugly painting,” Drunk Number Two laughs. “I never believed those stories.”

“No one did, but you remember the cleric Queen Snow had executed a few years ago? Word was that it was because he kept insisting the kid’s lineage was a lie.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you really think she was hooking up with the Evil Queen?”

“Nah, she’s too dull for that, lad,” Drunk Number One laughs, slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Pretty enough to bend over for a couple hours, but dumber than a box of split rocks.” 

“Isn’t that how we prefer them? Bet the Evil Queen does, too.” 

That gets both of them laughing, loud as can be, amused at their crassness.

It takes everything Regina has not to light the dumb pricks on fire.

She needs them, she reminds herself grimly.

At least for a few more answers.

 

* * *

 

Regina is waiting for them in the alley when the two men stumble their way out of the tavern, arm-in-arm, both too drunk to stand up alone. They’re giggling, and shoving, acting more like naughty school boys than the highly-esteemed men they’re supposed to be.

“Gentle...men,” she says coolly as she steps in front of them, pulling back her hood. 

She knows that she doesn’t look exactly the same as she once had, but close enough.

They blink, surprised, uncertain and then completely disbelieving. That gives way to fear because she’s just staring at them, an eyebrow cocked, and this very much the stuff nightmares are made of; at least the ones they’ve been told of.

“The Evil Queen!” Drunk Number One whines.

“Yes, yes, you’re terrified,” Regina drawls, sounding incredibly bored. “I know. You should be. We can get to that later should you piss me off enough to punish you for more than your disrespectful words about the princess. For now, I need answers.”

“About?” Drunk Number Two asks.

“Princess Emma. What happened to her? What happened to Snow and Charming?”

The two men look at each other in confusion. One says, “You…you killed them.” 

“I did what?”

“You kidnapped Princess Emma, and you murdered the King and Queen.”

“I…what?” 

“You should be running,” Drunk Number One says, sounding suddenly very brave. 

“And why is that?” she demands, trying to clear her mind of all of the noise. Of all of the confusion of something that simply cannot be. 

“Because King Henry is nearby -"

"His name is still Henry?" Her eyes light up at this, unable to stop a smile from crossing her face.

One of the men looks at her like she's lost her mind, but then recovers himself to say, "Yeah, and when he finds you, he's going to tear you apart.“ The men giggle at that, and it’s simply too much, because this is not how she wanted to return to his life.  The little pirate prince who had never been hers now wants her dead for the very thing she’d never been able to do, and now is being accused of. 

It’s really quite insane, and yet here she is, in the middle of a new nightmare. One she thinks she should run from. But she has no beans – only a plant that will take several more months to bloom, and Emma is still missing. She's somewhere out there and possibly in terrible danger, which means that Regina will need to put herself in equally terrible danger to save her lost former lover.

For Emma, though…anything.

Affecting her darkest look, she demands, “First, tell me how old Henry is and then tell me where I can find him.”

 

* * *

 

 

She finds fourteen-year-old King Henry (and oh the relief which had come over her at realizing that she and Emma are now roughly the same physical age, and perhaps that’s putting the cart in front of the horse, but…well…) standing in the middle of the forest. Flanked by three of the Royal Guardsmen, he’s wearing decorative chainmail, a massive sword clutched in his hands as he looks around like he’s utterly lost. Angry and frustrated, and looking like he has nothing to ground him or to help him figure out where to go next.

Nothing, but his rage, and she better than anyone knows how empty that is.

Stepping out from behind several trees, she draws her magic (she knows she should be using it more sparingly – it’s still relatively new to her, and she’s not remotely at full power yet) forward, and with a flick, knocks the three Guardsmen out cold.

“Hello, Henry,” she says softly, stepping towards him. 

He immediately goes on-guard, his sword out in front of him. “You,” he sneers. 

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not her. I’m not the –“

“The monster who murdered my grandparents? Yes, you are.”

“No! I didn’t do that,” she insists, desperation in her voice. After finding the two drunk dukes pretty much useless for answers, she'd used an old trick to tape into their current memories ("think about the last time you saw the King and Queen"), only to see someone looking just like her breaking up Henry’s investiture, challenging a weakened Emma to fight her, and then vanishing away with Snow and Charming. It had made no sense, but clearly, it had happened; someone who looked like her had done that. “I know that’s hard to believe.” She holds up her hands to him. “All of this is hard for me to believe, too, but…I wasn’t even here.”

“No, I saw you,” he snaps. “I saw you standing over their bodies, you lying witch.”

She winces, then takes another step towards him. “You hate me; I understand that, but…you mean everything to me. Did you know that I was with you when you were born, Henry? You obviously don’t remember, but you’re named after my father. He -"

“I know the story; you butchered him for your curse. My grandmother told me I was named after him because he was courageous enough to try to stop you."

"Of course she did."

"Not that it mattered; you murdered him just like you murdered _my_ father. Because he got in your way. Thank the gods my grandparents stopped you.” 

“Your father didn’t die because he got in my way; he died protecting me,” Regina growls. “I adored him just as I adore my father." 

“More lies.” He lifts his sword, pointing it at her. “Where is my mother, Witch?” 

Regina’s shoulders slump as she remembers why she’s here. “I don’t know. I –“ 

He doesn’t let her get the words out; suddenly he charges, his sword slamming violently against the blade that she just managed to get up in time. Her sword is smaller, lighter, far less suited to go head-on with a broadsword, but she’s faster and nimbler on her feet, trained for battle instead of ceremonies and royal games.  He might be a king now, but up to this point, he’d been a pampered prince who was used to fighting with frustratingly sycophantic subjects who wouldn’t dare to cause him harm. Even if he had asked them to go hard, even if he had demanded it, they would put up a good pretend fight, but in the end would never risk defeating him. 

In a kingdom forced into peace by the dark threat of severe punishment, he never would have needed to be more skilled than that, anyway. But that kingdom has fallen, and Henry is little match for her, even with his rage strengthening his blows. In short order, she trips his knee, which causes his sword to fly away, and brings her blade to his throat.

Not as a threat, but as a declaration that this battle is over.

He sees it otherwise, glaring up at her. “I won’t ever submit to you. Kill me.”

Like he thinks that such bravery is a form of valiant heroism.

“No,” she whispers, stepping away from him. She keeps her sword out, just in case he attacks again. “I know you don’t believe me – and I don’t understand what’s happened here – but I’m not responsible for your grandparents’ death. I’ve been in Neverland since the day you were born. I only returned here a few hours ago.”

“I _don’t_ believe you. But even if I did, why did you come back?”

“My magic returned. The loss of it was tied to your grandmother, and when she passed, it came back to me. That’s how I knew that they…she was gone.” 

He blinks in confusion; he’d seen the Evil Queen use her magic to freeze the room during his investiture, and obviously she used it to murder his grandparents, but…now as he thinks about, he knows what this woman in front of him is saying is true. Her magic _had_ been taken away, bound by the oldest of magic to his grandmother’s life. She’d told him so, herself, the time she told him that he’d never meet the Evil Queen. Oh, then, he had been curious, fascinated by the stories of this woman about whom so many things had been written. His grandmother had sharply reminded him that the forces of Good had purged such Evil from their land forever.

He asks again, “Why did you return? To take back the kingdom?”

 “Oh, Henry. My days of being the Queen – evil or otherwise – are long over. It’s not what I want anymore. What I want…is your mother. She means everything to me.”

“Then where did you take her?” he demands, leaning up on his elbows. 

“You’re not listening. I didn’t kill Snow and Charming, and I didn’t take your mother anywhere. I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me. I want to find her. Same as you.”

“Same as…no, I saw you with her. You…I don’t understand.”

“Stand up,” she insists, putting her sword away, and then offering him a hand. 

He stares back at her, looking at a hand that is rough with callouses from working on a ship, not smooth like his grandmother’s had been. Again, “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” she admits, pulling him up. “But I think we can help each other.”

“I don’t want your help,” he declares, turning away from her (it’s a mistake only an unpracticed boy would make; one who doesn’t really understand the nature of threats well enough to know that you never turn your back on an enemy). “I want you dead and rotting.” 

“I know you do,” she murmurs, unable to hide her heartbreak. The emotion passes quickly, though, an idea sparking in her mind. Striding towards him, she puts her hand on his shoulder and turns him. He’s too stunned to look away, so with one hand holding him in place, Regina looks him in the eye. “If I remember correctly, your grandfather has always been – was something of a gambler.”

“You dare to speak –“ 

“Henry,” she scolds, unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice. No, he’s not her son as she had so stupidly hoped for so many years ago, but he’s still a boy, and his anger and emotions are clouding a situation that is already bizarrely murky. 

He glares at her, but grudgingly says, “Yes; Grandpa taught me how to play dice.”

“Good. Your father enjoyed dice as well. He was never particularly good, but gods, he loved to play.” She smiles fondly at the memory of Bae before shaking herself out of it. “My point is, you know how to take a bet. And you how to make a wager. Yes?” 

“Yes.”

She takes a breath. “I’m going to gamble my life, Henry. I’m going to gamble that working together, we can figure out what happened to your mother. If I’m wrong, if I don’t find a way to reunite you with her, then my lost wager will be my life.” 

“Why?” he asks, brow furrowing as he tries to understand her desperate gambit. 

“Because it might be the only way to convince you that I loved – _love_ your mother.”

“She’s never mentioned any part of these lies you’re telling me now. She never mentioned that my father knew you,” he tells her, a sneer to his voice; she thinks that he’s trying to hurt her, make her as hurt as he is. “She doesn’t know you like you think she does.”

“Perhaps not, anymore, but...she did. Many years ago, I met her when she was traveling with your father, and after he passed, we became close. She saved me and…I think I did the same for her. But things changed, and sacrifices were made, and she left with you.”

“You’re lying,” he says once more, but there’s a desperate whine to his voice. The last refuge of a heartbroken boy who is seeing his reality crack apart. 

“If I am lying, then you’ll get to do with me as you please.” 

“You have magic,” he declares. “You could kill me before –“ 

“Henry,” she says again, and her voice is shaking. “I know you hate me. Everything that I am. I don’t have the time to explain how much that breaks my heart. I don’t have the time to convince you that everything you know is…wrong.” She looks across the clearing, towards where his horse is. “You’ve been looking for me, right? Your intent is to bring me back to stand trial?”

“It is.”

“Did you come out here with only swords and those…men?” she gestures wildly towards the still unconscious Royal Guardsmen. “Or was there something else?” 

“I brought a way to restrain you. A magic restraining cuff the Blue Fairy gave me,” He eyes grow large as it dawns on him what she’s getting at. “You…are you agreeing to wear it?”

“If it will convince you of my goodwill, then yes.” 

“What will stop me from killing you the moment your magic is gone?” 

“I haven’t had magic in thirty-five years, Henry; I assure you that being without it again won’t make me as weak as…well," she touches the cutlass at her side, motioning meaningfully towards it. "Let’s just say that I can hold my own.” 

“Indeed," he allows. Then frowns. "But still...you’re willing to give up your magic to…assure me that you’re not who I think you are.” 

She holds out her hand to him. “I’m willing to give it up my magic if it means we can get past this silliness, and get back to what matters most to both of us: your mother.”

He turns away from her again; he walks over to his horse and extracts a leather gauntlet. When he returns, he’s visibly confused, entirely off-kilter. He steps towards her, waiting for her to pull her hand away from him, but when she doesn’t, he puts the bracelet on her, hearing her gasp as her nearly returned magic shuts off again. 

“Did that hurt?” he asks, half curious and half hopeful. 

She’s still his enemy, Regina reminds herself.

“A little,” she admits, then turns her gaze from him and looks up towards the hills.

“What? What are you looking for?” 

“Rumplestiltskin. Is he still locked away?” 

“No. You released him.” 

Regina snorts, “I most certainly did not.” She points towards the hills. “His castle is beyond those. I might loathe the son of a bitch more than I can say, but if anyone can help us find Emma or at least point us in the right direction, he’d be the one.” 

“You really aren’t from here, are you?”

“Well, I’m from here; I’m just not...the one who did what you think I did.” 

“She was you,” Henry notes, scratching his temple as he tries to work all of this out in his mind, the confusion of it all. “But she acted like she knew me, like I meant something to her. When I drew my sword on her, she said she wouldn’t hurt me, and then held her arms out like she was going to let me kill her.” He gestures down at the cuff. “She put herself into my hands the same way that you are.” 

“I guess, maybe, affection for you is universal in people wearing my face.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Then you should probably know that Rumplestiltskin wants you dead as much as I do. He didn’t tell me why, but he came to me offering to help.” 

“You didn’t take it, right? Never take a deal from Rumplestiltskin,” she lectures.

Earning her the expression of an annoyed teenage boy. “I know that."

“Good.” She hums. “Unfortunately, he’s still our best option. I’ve been away from here for over three decades, with the exception of the year your mother was pregnant with you, and I was on the water for that. I wouldn’t even know where to start in trying to find where Emma could have disappeared to. So…Rumple, it is.”

“I miss her,” Henry says softly, some of his anger seeping away, his youth showing.

“I do, too. But we’re going to find her. I promise you on my life that we will.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Perhaps not, but you don’t think I’m lying, anymore, do you?”

“No,” he admits. “I don’t understand how that’s possible, but you’re not lying.” 

“I’ll take it. Let’s go find Emma.”

 

* * *

 

Absent her magic (even if she were able to use it, she’s too far out of practice to even think about transporting two people such a long distance), she ends up riding next to Henry on a handsome stallion named Grayson, quickly adapting to being back in the saddle. She’s spent so many years on the deck of a ship, with only a rocking motion beneath her, that to be atop such a magnificent animal again, to feel her body following his motions, the sensation of speed and energy beneathher as they gallop down the road… it’s almost overwhelming in how amazing it feels to her.

“You’re good with him,” Henry notes as they slow down to a steady trot, pointing towards the black and white stallion she’s upon. “Very few people are. He tends to be a little bit erratic and emotional.”

“Oh, then he and I understand each other,” Regina murmurs. “Don’t we, Grayson?” The horse rears towards her in response, calming as she gently pats his mane.

“So what’s our plan?” Henry asks, as they continue their way through the mountain pass; Rumple’s castle may be on relatively flat land, but it’s a treacherous journey to get there.

“I suppose we could just ask him straight out, but…he tends to play games so I think maybe we should go about in a more subtle way.” Regina dips her head, thoughtful. “There was another me. Someone who looked exactly like me, right?”

“I think for as much as I believe it possible, we’ve agreed on that point.” 

“I know; I’m just trying to understand. Emma…she just disappeared with her?” 

“I don’t know. One moment I was trying to throw a sword at her –“

“Her being your mother or her as in –“

“You,” he replies, stubbornness creeping into his tone. 

“Henry.”

“You don’t get to scold me for…” he frowns. “This is madness.” 

Regina smiles slightly. “It is. Anyway, you were…throwing a sword at her. Then?” 

“My mother yelled my name, and then I froze, as did the sword. Magic of some kind. I could kind of see my mother and the Queen talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Mom grabbed the sword, and then they just… left together.”

“Odd.” 

“I followed them across the river, even apprehended a thief who had stolen from them, but they were gone. I’ve been searching for them for the last week.”

“You should be at home grieving,” Regina says, kindly.She might not be able to mourn the deaths of Snow and Charming, not after all that had happened between them, and not after what Snow had done, but she finds that she still does grieve the young girl that had once been…and a different relationship. Long gone now, and perhaps told better in a different reality. 

Which…actually makes her wonder if the other her had been from such a place. 

It’s an absurd idea, really.

But…not impossible.

“My mother is missing,” Henry reminds her, cutting through her thoughts, his voice strong and righteous as only a Charming can be. “Finding her is my only duty.”

“All right,” she agrees. “Then, onwards to Rumplestiltskin.” 

“You’re thinking about something."

“You don’t know me,” she reminds him. "But I suppose I am.” 

“Tell me.” It’s an order, and she chafes at it before reminding herself that he likely was raised in this manner, quick to assume compliance from almost everyone. 

“Other worlds, Henry.”

“Like…as in Neverland?”

“Not exactly. More like…a parallel reality where everything we know exists just...differently. It’s always been hypothetical, but I know that Rumple himself had been quite the believer in the possibility of…multiples.”

He looks at her like she’s gone mad again, like every word she’s saying is gibberish.

Maybe it is. 

She waves her hand dismissively, then pats Grayson and urges him on.

Hopefully towards Emma.

 

* * *

 

“The Dark One is here,” Regina announces as they dismount, just outside of the dark castle. She looks around, taking in the shadows that seem to cling to all of the external walls. This place – one she spent too much time in during her apprentice days – has always been creepy, but there’s something even more foreboding about it than usual. 

“How do you know?” Henry demands, pulling his sword.

“Put that away,” she murmurs. “I know he’s here because I was Rumple's student and shared magic with him on multiple occasions. I can feel his energy signature all over the place. Magic has a unique scent for every user; his smells like dead leaves and rot.”

“That’s because he’s a demon,” Henry tells her, his words heavy with loathing.

“And you think I’m a monster.”

“You haven’t proven to me that you’re not one. That you’re not… _her_.”

Regina turns, her patience on the edge of snapping. She can understand his anger at her, his hesitancy to believe her considering what he had actually seen, but there’s a strange weight on her chest right now, this odd pressure upon her heart telling her that they don’t have time for this. So, she answers instead with the first words that come to her, “Emma’s here, too.”

“What?” he snaps, and then he jerks forward and grabs her by the collar of her jerkin.

She says, her voice calm and deliberate, “I care for you more than you can even begin to imagine, Henry, but if I were you, I would take your hands off of me. _Right. Now_.”

Because, while this boy means the world to her, she will not be manhandled by anyone. No matter what her feelings are for them.

He releases her, murmuring an apology as he steps back and says, “My mother…” 

“Is here. I can…feel here.” She frowns, unable to explain why even to herself. 

“You shared magic with her?” 

“No,” Regina replies, shaking her head as she brushes herself off. She takes a moment to compose herself, and then she steps closer to Henry. “I need you to listen to me very carefully now: we are about to walk into the castle of my former teacher. A man who was a son of a bitch when I knew him, and who has spent many years in a cage. You told me he wants me dead, so we should assume the worst as we go forward. If we’re going to save Emma, I’m going to need you trust me. Or at least try to.” 

“That’s the best I can do,” he says honestly. “Because _I_ _don’t_.”

“I know,” Regina concedes, forcing a thin pained smile.

“You didn’t answer me as to how you that know she’s here.”

“I just do,” she shrugs, as she leads him around the side of the castle, towards the place where the water emerges and joins with the nearby river. Tucked low into the mud and the rocks is a small door, one that leads to a long tunnel which will take them in and under many of the rooms of the castle. “When I was his student,” she explains. “This is how I got in and out without being seen. I was a young Queen, then, and if I had been caught, the King would have executed me.” 

“For being an illicit magic user,” Henry nods, like her words make perfect sense. 

Regina turns and looks at him, studying him. “Did you attend executions for that?” 

“My grandmother believed it was important I understand what had rotted our land.”

“I see.” She bites back from telling him what she actually thinks about what Snow had done, stops herself from telling him how she had used illicit magic on her own daughter to control her. Just barely stops herself from revealing the truth about Snow’s terrible fall. 

She can’t think about that - can't think about them or the hypocritical tyranny of heroism right now; only Emma.

And Emma _is_ near.

Scared, she thinks, but also…angry.

It frightens Regina that she can feel these things so vividly, and she wonders if she’s projecting her own feelings outwards, telling herself comfortable stories. Stories where she finds the love of her life, and they find happiness together.

Sometimes, she reminds herself that they’d only been together a few short months, and she’s been alive many long years, but it never seems to matter; she was only with Daniel for a little while as well, and his death had altered her existence for the worse. It would seem that time is irrelevant when it comes to what her heart feels. 

“Now where?” Henry demands, scowling as he steps through mud.

“To the left; we’ll come up just under his cells. Which…is where we want to be.”

“We do?”

“I think we do." She reaches out and rubs the hand with the magic restraining bracelet on it, suddenly wishing for what she now can’t use. Needing some familiarity as she steps into something so uncertain. 

“You really _do_ care about my mother, don’t you?” he asks, his brow knit in confusion.

“She made me believe,” Regina replies, and the words aren’t nearly enough, but they’re true.

He doesn’t have a chance to reply, because they’ve come to the end of the corridor, and Regina’s suddenly tensing, her hand on her sword, ready for combat. "Henry, stay behind me; something's...not right."

"How very astute of you," she hears, and then her eyes are snapping up to find Rumplestiltskin leaning against the wall, pretending to look over his dirty nails. "You always were smarter than was useful." He looks up at her. "Welcome back to the Enchanted Forest, Your Majesty Prime." He giggles and then he's lifting her into the air, choking her.

Immediately, she defaults to old train-in instincts: she lets her body go limp, not resisting at all.

Because resistance has always, without fail, ended up hurting her far worse. 

So she hangs in the air, blinking, looking straight ahead, and managing her fear.

Or at least, attempting to. 

“Let her go!” 

“Oh, Henry, my boy. I didn’t see you there,” Rumple cackles. “Is this a gift for me?” 

“Where’s my mother?” Henry demands, his expression almost a snarl. 

“She’s right here,” Rumple cackles, lifting Regina a little higher, enjoying the way her eyes bulge.

“What?” 

“Oh, right, wrong Henry. Different Regina.” He laughs once more to himself, and then throws Regina, clapping his hands in excitement when she hits the rocky wall with a hard thud.

Henry looks for a moment like he’s going to go to her, actual concern crossing his face as he takes in her slumped form, but then he remembers her insistence that his mother is here, and the need to get Emma back wins out. “Where is she?” 

“Ah, first business to attend to.” Rumple instructs, as he snaps his fingers and lifts Regina’s unconscious form back into the air. She hovers for a moment before he lets her bonelessly fall between him and Henry, turning her over with his foot so that Henry can see the blood on her face. “Will you trade the Queen’s worthless life for your mothers?”

"I don't make deals with you," he declares, head up, nostrils flaring indignantly.

"Well, that's a shame because I do have your mother, and yes, yes, you could try to fight me for her, but you would lose. Or...you could give me the Queen, and we can call it a deal. Your mother would be returned to you, and I'll deal with...her."

“I -"

"Time is ticking away, lad," Rumple taunts. "Your mother is ill, and the Queen will be coming to soon enough."

"My mother is sick?"

"A week here has done her no favors, I'm afraid."

Henry grits his teeth. "I will kill you for this."

"Perhaps later. Do we have a deal now?"

"Yes," he concedes, thinking that this should be an easy decision.

His mother for the life of the Evil Queen, right? But what if what the Queen says is true and his mother actually does love her? 

But no, it can’t be true, because his mother is shy and quiet, too afraid and too timid to have had the kind of love affair the Queen is suggesting. And far too good to have found something worthwhile in something so evil.

At least, that’s what his grandmother would have said. 

How strange, then, that he finds himself doubting everything he’s ever known, and suddenly wishing he could take back his “yes”. 

“Excellent,” Rumple nods. “Then we have a deal. The Queen for your mother.” Another snap of his fingers, and a weak-looking woman in a filthy dirty white-yellow robe appears on the ground before him; blonde hair tangled, scratches on her cheek, it’s still his mother.

“Mom!” Henry exclaims, as he rushes towards her, hugging her tight. “Mom.” 

“Henry,” Emma whispers, her voice breaking due to lack of use. He notices that she’s blinking repeatedly, as if even the meagre light of the small room they’re in is too much. Still, her arms surround him, and though she’s undeniably weak from spending a week in a tiny terrible cage, she crushes him to her chest with more strength and passion than he has ever felt from her before. “You found me.”

Shame rises in him. “I…had help…” his eyes drift to the woman on the ground.

Hers follow down, and then she gasps. “Regina!” She falls down beside her, reaching out to check for signs of life. When her hand rises and falls with Regina’s chest, she lets out a ragged breath of air. Then to Rumple, she growls, “What did you do to her?”

“I merely took her in trade. Your dear boy was a willing accomplice.” 

“I don’t understand,” Henry mumbles, and he thinks he’s said this a dozen times today. 

He probably has. 

“It’s a complicated story,” Rumple agrees. “So many Emmas. So many Reginas.”

Refusing to engage in this madness (at least for the moment), Emma leans over Regina, and checks the bloody wound on her face, finding it to just to be an ugly, but not terribly deep gash (strange how quickly old healing skills return to her). Lifting her hands to Regina’s cheeks, she leans down, pressing her face close, much to Henry’s shock. “Hey,” Emma murmurs. “Open your eyes.” 

Henry watches in amazed disbelief, witnessing the tenderness his mother is showing towards the Queen. “She was telling the truth?” 

“She _was_. Others weren’t,” Emma agrees. “Regina, come on. Come back to me.” 

Her plea is met with a soft pained groan, and then dark eyes are looking at her. 

“Emma?"

“There's my Captain.” 

“It’s Your Majesty, to you,” Regina counters, sounding slightly drunk. 

“You’ll always be my Captain _and_ my Queen,” Emma replies cheekily.

“Yes, yes, as wonderfully romantic as this is, I should inform you that this reunion is a doomed one,” Rumple says dramatically. “Our boy king here – well, I suppose with your mother alive, you’re back to being just a spoiled prince – sold her to me a few minutes ago for you. So you may leave, but the Queen is staying here with me.”

“Over my dead body,” Emma snarls, eyes flaring with fight. 

Henry’s never seen this in her before; never could have imagined it possible. 

He thinks maybe it’s the most incredible thing he’s even witnessed.

“You were almost dead a few minutes ago; I’m happy to finish the process, dearie.” 

“You touch my mother, I’ll destroy you,” Henry announces, stepping forward. Because even as much as he finds that he is enjoying this strange new fight in Emma, she is still his mother, and his job as her son is to protect her. 

“Henry, no,” Regina protests, wincing as she does.

“This is all very tedious,” Rumple sighs. Then flicks his hand as he says, “Time for the two of you to go.”

It should have worked; he’s an all-powerful wizard and neither Emma nor Henry are at all a threat to him, and the Queen’s magic is bound. It should have worked, but when his wrist flicks, his magic rebounds and suddenly, he’s flying backwards, hitting the same wall that Regina had hit moments before. He doesn’t lose consciousness as she had, but he stares back up, dazed and surprised.

Seeing the way Emma is facing him, her hands extended, just as surprised.

“ _You_ have magic,” Regina breathes as she forces herself to her feet, staggering. In the air, she smells...sandalwood and dandelions?

“I…guess I do,” Emma confirms. And then, still dirty and weak herself after almost a week locked away, she moves over to Regina, wrapping an arm protectively around her, and finding one wrapped around her in return.

To Henry’s young but keen eyes, it would appear that they’re holding each other up. 

“The boy made a deal with me,” Rumple declares. “He traded her life for yours. I delivered and now I expect him to do the same. Or perhaps I’ll take the debt out of him instead.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Regina replies. “Because deep down, you know who he is.”

“Who I am?” 

“He’s nothing to me,” Rumple growls. Then says again, “We made a deal.”

“Yeah, well, I’m breaking it,” Emma snaps out. “You kidnapped me –“ 

Somehow, the ability to argue semantics returns Rumple from the state of rage he’d been nearing. “Not exactly true. The wish the _other you_ made did that. I merely kept you after her wish deposited you here, while the _other you_ took over your life until the  _other her_ killed your parents, kidnapped the _other you_ and then ran back home, wherever home is."

“So there was another… _you_ ,” Regina confirms for herself. “And another… _me_?”

“Yeah, it’s all a bit of a mess,” Emma tells her, eyes jumping from Regina to Henry to Rumple, and then back to Regina as she tries to figure her way out of this headache. 

As she tries to figure out who she is after so much time spent lost to herself. 

“But…you remember who…you are now? You remember me? Us? How?” 

“Some kind of True Love thing happened which broke the magic of the memory potion,” Emma states. “I don’t know what it was or how it happened, but it was between the other versions of us, so yeah, I remember who I am now.” Tears in her eyes, she adds, “I always felt like something was wrong, like something was missing. Now I know what it was. It was _you_. And it was _me_ and who I actually am.”

“Still bored,” Rumple states, standing up. “Now hand over the Queen or –“

“She’s not going with you,” Henry announces suddenly, stepping in front of the women, sword extended like he means to fight.

“Henry,” Regina interjects, thinking only of the baby she’d once held. 

A child she’d loved the moment she’d set eyes on, a boy she’d craved to parent. 

Fate hadn’t bent that way for her – not then, anyway. Now… 

“Henry, step back,” Emma tells him. “We can handle this.” She lifts her hand up, her newly discovered magic sparking off of her fingertips, her implied threat explicit. 

“No, no you really can’t. I made a deal for the Queen. Her life for yours. She owes me her life for what she took from me.”

“What did I take from you, you crazy bastard? You're the one who twisted my life around for your own pleasure."

"Not pleasure - purpose," he replies, grief trickling in. "Purpose which I was unable to realize when you failed to cast my curse."

"You spent thirty years locked up," Regina realizes. Then laughs humorlessly. "It did you no favors. Nor would the curse have; he was in Neverland the whole time."

Rumple swallows hard at that, how own grief clear. He shoves past it with, "Perhaps so, but all that time locked away gave me clarity. Clarity I plan to use to make you pay for what you did to Belle."

“Belle? Your annoyingly self-righteous bookworm? Aside from keeping her captive, I never harmed her. She was…wait.” Her eyes widen in horror as she remembers her last days in this land. “She was locked away in one of my cells when I was chased away from the castle by Snow and Charming. They never bothered to search them.Which meant she was -"

“Life to die of starvation. And since they’re already dead and beyond my ability to make them pay thanks to the  _other you_ , there’s nothing I can do to them, but I still can make sure that someone suffers the same fate that Belle did, and that someone is you.” 

“Henry,” Regina says, extending her arm to him. “I need you to trust me.”

He looks at the magic suppressing gauntlet, knowing what she’s asking.

“Henry,” Emma admonishes, anger sparking as she realizes what the bracelet is. 

“He had no reason to trust me then,” Regina defends, feeling an instinctive need to protect Henry from accusation; an effort that  no one misses. Especially not Henry, who stares at her in wonder.

Trying to figure out how everything he’s ever known is as wrong as it is. 

“Don’t do that, son; you have no reason to trust her _now_ ,” Rumple insists.

“I’m not your son,” Henry growls as he steps closer to Regina. “I’m hers." He points his sword towards Emma. “And _she_ trusts the Queen. That’s enough for me.” 

“Is it, really? Let’s be honest, your mother is a bit…simple, now isn’t she?” Rumple reminds him, the almost frantic speed of his words showing off just how desperate he is. “You’ve been taking care of her for a very long time. That’s your role, yes?” 

“No,” Emma counters. “I can take care of myself. And that person isn’t who I am. This is."

“Henry,” Regina urges, arm extended again.

Because she thinks it has to be Henry who does this - who extends the trust that can perhaps make them all whole. 

“Henry,” Rumple pleads, eyes again darting to Emma’s hand, then back to Regina. 

Henry looks right at Emma, then at Regina, “You were with me when I was born?” 

“I was,” Regina tells him, smiling brightly. “The most wonderful moment of my life.”

“I’m named after her father?” he asks his mother, ignoring Rumple shaking his head.

“You are,” Emma confirms. “Because I wanted a memory of the family _I_ wanted.”

Regina turns her head to look at her. “What? You said –“ 

“I named him that because of what your father taught you, but also because I knew that my mother would try to take what we had away, and I thought maybe if I carried even that little piece of you with me, then you would always be with me.”

Hand settled over her heart as it pounds in her chest, Regina breathes, “ _Emma_.”

Like she’s water after a longtime of traveling sand.

It’s their distraction that leaves them vulnerable, it’s their eyes on each other, their world narrowing down to them and Henry, which exposes them. With a clap of his hands, Rumple sends an electric burst of magic right at Regina’s back. It’s more than enough violent magic to kill her, especially given how exposed and undefended she is. And that will be his revenge, no matter what comes next. 

But that’s not how it goes; instead, Henry moves into the path of the deadly magic, taking the deathblow meant for an Evil Queen. 

Two women scream at once, and Rumple stares in shock.

Skin mottling, eyes yellowing as the demon takes over the man, he steps back, murmuring, “I didn’t mean…”

He keeps retreating, knowing that he’s about to face rage far beyond his own.

Thinking of Baelfire and how Regina is right, and how he knows who this boy is.

This boy who wears a face so similar to his lost son’s. A son he knows passed away many years ago, having felt his death even then, the loss of hope hurling Rumple into bitter madness beyond description.

And now…now there’s this boy – Bae’s boy - who is dying on the ground.

Rumple murmurs, “This isn’t over,” but he knows that it is for him.

Hand flicking again, he vanishes, unable to see his sins destroy the last of his family. 

The women don’t notice his disappearance, though, both of them hunched over Henry as he gasps for air, the magic having torn his armor and chainmail away. White-faced, Emma examines the wound. “No, no, no,” she says over and over again, like the words alone could possibly stop this horror.

“Why?” Regina demands, her hands on Henry's face. “Why did you step in the way?”

“You held me when I was born,” he replies, coughing, tears on his face. 

She’s desperate, almost crying herself, echoing him, saying, “I don’t understand.”

“My mom loves you and you love her. I couldn’t let her lose that. Protecting her is my job.”

She doesn’t have a response for that, instead she turns to look at Emma.

Eyes widening when she sees Emma bowed over him, clutching him, hands glowing. 

“Emma,” she breathes. “Magic.”

“What?”

“Quickly, take the bracelet off. Quickly!”

It’s old long buried instinct, of trusting her captain, her queen and her lover that makes her grab Regina’s hand and practically rip the magic repressing gauntlet away.  She’s about to ask “now what” but then Regina take her hand, and curling them together, presses them to Henry’s chest. “Breathe,” she says. “Believe.”

Talking to both mother and son.

She says to Henry, “It’s _our_ job to protect _you_.”

Thinking of a life with these two that she’d desperately wanted to have. 

A family taken away mere moments after it had been given back to her.

Emma looks at her in amazement, her eyes blown wide thanks to the magic rushing through her. She says, like she’s heard Regina’s thoughts, “We’ll have it again.” 

And then, together, their magic flows into Henry.

Sandalwood, dandelion, lavender and pine. 

Henry cries out, his back bowing as his body knits beneath their hands. 

When it’s over, and they’ve given everything they have, he falls back, gasping. 

Terrified that it’s not enough, Emma asks, “Henry?” 

“Mom,” he murmurs, and then he’s lunges up and hugs her as tight as he can manage. Whispering as he presses into her, “I had to protect your heart.”

“ _You’re_ my heart, Henry,” she tells him, hugging him back, fingers white at the knuckles. "You."

“I’m okay,” he assures her, and she knows that it’ll be a long time before she believes that – a long time before she’s able to not dream of almost losing her son.

Reluctantly, though, Emma lets him out of her arms, and watches teary-eyed as he turns his attention to Regina, who says softly to him, “I made you a promise.”

“You did,” he agrees, and then he tightly hugs her as well.

She stops breathing for a few seconds, too much emotion welling up in her as a dream from fourteen years ago suddenly and almost inexplicably comes true.

Her head falls onto his shoulder, tears spilling onto his collar.

She feels Emma’s arm come around them both, feels the circle close again.

A family finally coming back together as it should have always been. 

 

 

* * *

 

“How long?” Emma asks, sitting down next to Regina as she looks out over the land that she had grown up on. From where they are, she can see the stables where Daniel had died (and where now Grayson and Henry's horse rest), and a few hundred yards to her left, his grave marker stands tall. Reminders of a past that had hurled her into a nightmare.

“Until the bean is ready? I’d say around two months _if_ we manage to find a good place to plant it and get it adequate light.” She turns, and looks at Emma, a hand reaching up to brush stringy blonde hair from her eyes. “You should be sleeping.”

Emma catches her hand, squeezes it, and brings it down between them. “I didn’t do much besides sleep when I was in that cell, and I was kind of sleeping within that Emma for a long time. I think maybe I’d like to see what’s around me now.” 

“Understandable. Where’s Henry?” 

“ _He’s_ sleeping in the barn. Nearly dying took a lot out of him.” 

“I recall,” Regina murmurs, thinking back to a time when it had been her on death’s door. Thinking back to when Emma’s gentle caretaking had changed their stories for the better. The scar from that adventure still prominent on her side, white-pink against olive. 

She's pulled away from this memory by the feeling of Emma’s hand suddenly on her face, her fingers lightly trailing down the cut on the side of it; Emma had wanted to heal it but after using so much magic on Henry (and magic being so new to her), she'd found herself struggling to even bring about sparks. Turns out Regina has a new thing to teach her.

“I’m fine,” Regina assures her, catching her hand, and bringing it to her mouth, lightly dropping a kiss onto Emma’s knuckles.

“You are,” Emma agrees breathlessly, meaning a dozen different things. After exhaling, and getting ahold of herself, she says, “Henry’s going to want to know the truth about his father; he always heard my mother’s version where Bae was a heroic soldier who was kidnapped by pirates and died while valiantly resisting. Which...is a lot like the story she told him about your father, too. I believed both of them, because I didn’t have my memories to tell me otherwise. Now I know better; we owe him the truth.”

“The truth is better than fiction, anyway,” Regina shrugs.  

“Yeah.” She frowns, then. “Two months is a long time to stay hidden out of sight.”

“It is, but _you_ don’t have to stay hidden, _Princess_ ; just me. You could always go back to your kingdom. Your people would embrace you and Henry with wide-open arms.” 

“Perhaps, but thanks to that horrible memory potion and who my parents wanted me to be, no one has ever believed me capable of much more than looking pretty and occasionally looking good on same failed suitor's arm.” 

“At least it was failed," Regina grumbles. "Anyway, they're fools."

“Maybe, but I’ve never wanted to rule. Even…being me again, that’s not what I want. As for Henry, as happy as they’d be to pretend to support him, we both know they’d view his age as a vulnerability. He'd be under a constant threat from the other lords who would not hesitate to try to overthrow him and steal the crown for themselves. Say what you will about my mother, but she kept everyone in line.” 

“So did I,” Regina says dryly. “I just got called the Evil Queen for doing it.”

“She’s dead,” Emma reminds her, tone gentle and yet aching.

“I know and...I'm sorry,” Regina tells her. “For how much you hurt.”

“I hurt because I don’t think I ever really knew the best of my mother.”

“You didn’t,” Regina confirms. “The girl I knew would have loved this you more than you can imagine, Emma. She would have been so proud of everything you've become. Of just _how_ strong you actually are." 

These words are almost too much for Emma, and she has to take a moment to pull back the need to cry, finally asking, “Do you regret never being able to find peace between the two of you?”

“Perhaps, but I’m done with regrets; I’d rather spend that time in other ways.”

“Such as?”

“Oh,” Regina says, her voice low and sultry. “I have a few ideas.” Chuckling, she adds, “The last time I made love to you, you were nearly nine months pregnant. And while it was amazing, I imagine you and I could get up to some...interesting things now.”

“I bet we could,” Emma grins, for a moment looking away, almost shy again. Not like the princess of this land whose strength had been suppressed by fear, but more like the girl who’d found herself on the _Jolly Roger;_  the one who had learned to believe in herself. Shy even now because her vulnerability lies within her doubts, but relentlessly unimaginably beautiful in how she conquers them.

“But…” Regina continues gently, turning Emma back around to face her. “This realm does need a leader. If you leave it without one, it will descend into chaos, and many lives will be lost in the resulting land wars."

“You're right, but that leader won’t be me. And it won’t be Henry. That said, I do have an idea on how to make things better. It might take us a little longer than two months, but...I think it'll work.” 

“Care to tell me what it is?” 

“Not right now. Right now, I don’t want to talk about anything but _our_ future.” 

“And what exactly do you see for a future for us, my dear Princess?” 

Emma reaches out to cup Regina’s face, fingers tracing her jawline before slipping back and bringing Regina's hair down from its braid, marveling at the longer length of it. “A long time ago, you helped me to find who I could be – you pushed me to be brave and strong.” 

“I bullied you,” Regina reminds her, eyebrow up, unable to keep from teasing her. 

“You did, but then you fell madly in love with me.” Cheekily, she adds as she leans in and kisses Regina's neck, feeling the way her pulse pounds away beneath her lips. “Your Savior.”

That earns her a smirk. “I thought you didn’t want to be called that, _Miss Swan_.” 

“I prefer Emma.” She leans up, then, and kisses Regina on the mouth, her lips chapped thanks to her brief imprisonment but still so unimaginably soft. “You want to know what I see for a future? Us. Being brave and strong _together_. Just like you taught me to be.”

“My love," Regina corrects. "I do believe that you’re the one who taught me that."

"Maybe we taught each other."

"Fair enough," Regina agrees, thinking of Snow's last words to her.

Thinking about just how wrong she'd ended up being. 

Thinking about how the girl she'd known long ago would have been thrilled to have been wrong about her words.

That's the Snow she's going to carry forward, she decides; the Snow she'll help Emma to make peace with.

For both of their sakes.

“I love you, Regina," Emma states. "And if you’ll have me, I’d like to go home again.” 

“Home being?”

“Anywhere you are. Anywhere we can be...us. But I suppose more specifically, the _Jolly Roger_.”

“Henry is a knight here in this realm; it’s what he knows,” Regina argues weakly. She supposes that it’s an attempt to make sure that this is for real, a need to get rid of the obstacles that one day might take Emma and Henry away from her once again.

“He was a pirate prince first just as I was a...pirate princess." She smirks when she says this, finally accepting the label she'd once been so uncertain about. "Trust me, he’ll adapt; he’s an amazing kid.” 

“Yes, he is,” Regina concurs. 

“So that’s where I want to be. With the crew who accepted me and the woman I love. That is, if my Captain – _my_ Queen – agrees."

“Your Captain, your Queen and the woman who loves _you_  most certainly agrees,” Regina replies, and then she kisses Emma, and with a growl, pushes her back on the grass, climbing atop her. Unable to stop herself from teasing Emma, realizing how much she has missed it, she asks, "You think you still recall how this goes?"

"I might need a few hints," Emma suggests, cheekily.

"Mm. That can be arranged." She leans in and kisses Emma again, full and passionate, holding nothing back.

“I need a bath,” Emma mumbles, pulling Regina to her. 

“You do, and when we’re done here, we can go bathe in the river together. Amongst the many other things we’ll do there,” Regina promises before leaning down and nipping Emma’s lip. “But first, I think we should see if we can’t get you a bit dirtier first.”

That earns her a deep from the middle of the gut groan from the blonde. “Oh gods, I have missed you,” Emma manages, her head lolling as Regina kisses her neck, teeth scraping across the soft skin of her throat. One of her hands darts out, fingers weaving into the thick dark hair which she'd released, scratching against scalp. The other hand works its way under Regina’s still blood-soaked white shirt, lightly touching the familiar scar on her side – the one she had once cared for (and somewhat created). 

“You didn’t know who we were to each other,” Regina retorts as she slowly peels Emma’s clothing away from her body, her mouth immediately following the path of her hands, her tongue tracing a line down and across Emma’s breasts. 

Her hands reaching out, Emma lifts Regina’s face away from her chest. Grinning at Regina’s confusion, Emma leans across and kisses her, putting as much emotion into as she can before saying simply, “My heart knew. My heart _always_ knew.” 

Regina pulls back only far enough to find Emma’s eyes and echo, “I know.”

And then she pushes Emma back to the grass again, smiling at the prospect of getting her beautiful pirate princess positively filthy.

Thankfully, there’s a river down below.

 

* * *

 

**FOUR MONTHS LATER.**

They scare the hell out of Booker.

Booker, who is leaning over his maps, tapping a pencil against one of them as he tries to figure out yet another nook and cranny of Neverland for them to hide in. 

Booker, who is sipping from his flask of rum as the eerie night light shines on him. 

“Should you be drinking while on duty?” Regina drawls, speaking from behind him.

He screams – actually lets out a noise that would shame him if anyone else heard (unfortunately almost everyone awake _does_ hear) – and then there are pirates turning towards him, their eyes widening as they see who is standing by Booker, (who by this point has gotten ahold of himself enough to be ecstatic at seeing his captain and his old apprentice aboard the ship).

“Captain,” Smee calls out, his round face lighting up with undisguised glee. 

“Mr. Smee,” she greets warmly, and then allows him to pull her into a bear-hug; years ago – even months ago – she might not have been willing to allow this, but so much has happened and when it’s all said and done, these people are her family.

“You were terribly missed,” he tells her. 

“That’s good to know.” She gestures behind her. “I brought back a friend.” 

His eyes settle on Emma, and his smile reappears, “Miss Swan!”

Henry, dressed in trousers and a tunic instead of chainmail, and standing beside the two women asks, “Miss Swan?”

“Long story, kid. We have a lot of those that I still want to tell you.” She nudges his shoulder playfully, and steps away and then into Smee’s open arms. Feeling the strength of his hug.

“It’s good to have you back,” he tells her.

“It’s good to be back,” she grins, and then she turns towards the rest of the crew as they approach her, greeting them with the same open affection and warmth.

“So,” Marian says, coming up beside Regina as she watches all of this. 

“Not a word.” 

“Please,” Marian chuckles. “I was right; I plan to hold that over you forever.” 

“I suppose you’re allowed,” Regina concedes.

"You were gone longer than we expected; we were getting worried."

" _We_ were worried you wouldn't still be here. It would have been Emma, Henry and I against Pan until we figured out a way to you."

"I think I like our odds with all of us a little better."

"Me, too," Regina confesses, watching as Emma starts introducing Henry around to everyone. Henry’s still adapting to this new bolder version of his mother, still at times caught off-guard when she doesn’t shrink back or fall down or really even need his help.

But he’s clearly proud of her, clearly thrilled to be known as her son. 

“You brought your boy home,” Marian notes. 

“ _Her_ boy,” Regina corrects. “He and I, we’re still...getting to know each other.”

As she says this, Henry looks over at her, grinning. No longer the angry boy who had wanted to draw blood, but now a happy young man on an exciting new adventure with his family. 

“I’d say it's going pretty well."

“It is,” Regina agrees, smiling adoringly back at Henry. "And maybe...one day..."

“One day," Marian agrees. Then, head tilted in curiosity. "So if both Emma and Henry are here, who’s sitting on the throne?” 

“That's what took us so long; Emma brokered a deal with Queen Elsa to allow Arendale and the Enchanted Forest to merge into one kingdom. In exchange for her abdication – and Henry’s – guarantees of equal citizenship were made and…we’ve all been pardoned.”

“I see. And…Elsa and Emma?”

Regina shoots Marian a look, like she knows she’s just shit-kicking. “Just old friends.” 

“And you and Emma? What are you?” 

Emma chooses that moment to step back over, hugging Marian quickly before reaching down and taking one of Regina’s hands, allowing their comfortably joined palms to rest between them. Looking from Emma over to where Henry is standing with Booker, the two of them already thick as thieves, Regina thinks about the hole which had once been in her heart, the savage wound, which she had spent so much time trying to figure out how to heal. Now, realizing that her heart has finally been made whole, she replies, “Home.” 

“Free,” Emma adds, before boldly kissing Regina on the cheek. “Finally.”

 

**-FIN**

  


End file.
